


Whatever that's left (another holy war)

by OnlyOneWoman



Series: All That May Leave Us Shattered [2]
Category: Black Sails
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Alternate Ending, Angst, Caretaking, Despair, Domestic, Fear, Grief, Guilt, Gunnbones, Healing, Husbands, Loneliness, Love, Lovers to Friends, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Matelotage, Mental Breakdown, Mental Instability, Mind Control Aftermath & Recovery, Mindfucked Ben Gunn, Not Canon Compliant, Pirate Husbands, Post-Season/Series 03, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protection, Protective Billy Bones, Protective Charles Vane, Punishment, Rape Aftermath, Religious Guilt, Revenge, Self-Hatred, Sexual Content, Shame, Walrus Husbands, Wedding, Worry, aftermath of kidnapping, silverflint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-29
Updated: 2016-09-29
Packaged: 2018-08-11 18:53:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 45
Words: 53,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7903834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnlyOneWoman/pseuds/OnlyOneWoman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a follow-up to "Naked in the dark (return him to my arms)". If you have not read it, I recommend you to do that before reading this, or it will be a bit tricky to follow this story. The couple it's all about is Billy Bones and Ben Gunn. Other couples will only be side figures. Here is a small recap of the latest events (SPOILERS if you didn't read "Naked in the..."!):</p><p> "Whatever that's left (another holy war)" continues about three months after the last chapter in "Naked in the dark (return him to my arms)". After being abducted, tortured and raped by two religious fanatics - a man and a woman - Ben Gunn is left extremely emotionally scarred and his lover - and husband to be - Billy Bones tries his best to help him, but his efforts seem to be in vain and Ben ends up threatening to shoot him. After a long, agonizing time trying to help him, Billy finally sees no other way out but leaving.</p><p>Once again: This is DIRECTLY linked with "Naked in the dark..." and wont make much sense if read separately. Comments are, of course, dearly appreciated. This is such an awesome fandom <3</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thewalruscaptain (nightly_division)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightly_division/gifts), [TheMissingMask](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMissingMask/gifts).



”Oi, Bones! Hand me that bottle, will ya?”  
”Tis barely anything left in it, Morgan.”  
”Just give’e to me!”  
”Suit yourself.”  
”He’s staring at ya, by the way.”  
”Who?”  
”Pete.”  
”Let’im stare. Doesn’t matter.”  
”Not into that, ey?”  
”Not into anything.”  
”Better tell’im to quit starring then.”  
”I don’t mind as long as he’s keepin’ his hands off me. Same goes for anyone.”  
  
Anyone. Everyone. The Ranger crew has come to accept him very quickly, much to Billy’s surprise. Or, he’d be surprised if he actually cared. The days are filled with work he’s handling with his usual efficiency. He’s up early, blending in to the crew, fulfilling his duties and never for a moment uses his friendship with Vane to get any special treatment.  
  
He’s learned the names of his new brothers, getting to know them without letting anyone close. A skill he learned when being rescued by Flint as a boy. Nothing in the new bosun’s behavior is odd to anyone. The crew know Vane’s wished for him for quite some time, and that he was one of the men rescuing their captain from the gallows. They know he’s been a part of Flint’s crew for about fifteen years and some of them know that he’s been Vane’s lover one time. Not that there are any signs of that now. They are, of course, friendly with each other, but there’s not even a hint of secrecy or that kind of closeness between them. They’re easy and work well together, nothing more.  
  
Pete is still staring. Billy has to talk to Vane about that, since he’s not in the least interested. A vow, however unofficial, isn’t something he throws away easily. And even if he didn’t love Ben, a boy like Pete is far too young for Billy’s taste. He’s not unaffected by the daily sight of half naked men around him, especially not Vane, but that’s all it is to him: a sight. His nights are just as lonely as they’ve been since Ben was taken from him, only easier to handle in a hammock than a bed made for two. If he wanted to, he could have Vane, of course. His former lover wouldn’t say no, hell, not many on this ship would say no if Billy made a move, but ironically he once again can’t have what he wants. As it’s been for most of his life when it comes to relationships.  
  
The thought actually makes him smile, from his place in the top, where he’s stationed to keep watch –and get a little privacy. He was so young, only fourteen when he was taken, and he’s been on the account since the age of seventeen. Women, especially in his own age, have been rare in any place he’s called home. He’s been surrounded by men and boys. Mostly men, but there’s been a few younger lads he’s met over the years, boys being hold as slaves on ships they hunted and later released in Nassau. No one as young as Billy was, have joined the crew since. Some men about nineteen-twenty, but mostly older. Ben was the latest recruit before the war and he’d past thirty.  
  
Billy’s longing for another drink. He’s never been easy on the bottle, but these three months that have passed since he jumped in the rowboat, leaving two rotten corpses and his heart behind him, the liqor is the only thing that gives him enough peace to be able to sleep. Maybe that’s his destiny after all: drinking himself to the grave, becoming a human wreck who’s mumbling the name of his long lost love between the gulps, receiving looks of pity and scorn from younger crew members. Men who’ve never ran through a town looking for a loved one who didn’t make it back from the tavern. Young men like Pete, that doesn’t know you can love a man to a point where a gorgeous body, a tantalizing smile, months of abstinence and at least three or four men who’d be more than happy to serve your cock, simply doesn’t matter.  
  
”Are ya fucking the cap’n, Bones?”  
”What?”  
”Was just wonderin’, ya know. We all know ’ow easy e’is for ya.”  
  
He’s almost forgot about Morgan. The blackhaired sailingmaster has been sitting quietly by his side this whole time, not talking until now. He’s looking at Billy, questioning but not judging. Billy just shakes his head.  
  
”We’re not fucking.”  
”Not tha’it wouldn’t do anythin’ if ya did, just to be clear. We all like ya here.”  
”Good to hear. But I’m not fucking the captain and he’s not fucking me. And I’m not interrested in fucking anyone here, in case anyone wondered.”  
”Pity. Ya’ll make some of the lads disappointed.”  
”Life’s full of disappointments, quartermaster. Seriously doubt the absence of my cock is among the heavier ones. I’m not interrested in anything or anyone.”  
”Should I make tha’ clear to the lads?”  
”Whatever you think is for the best, Morgan. I don’t say it’s dangerous for anyone to make a move, only completely fruitless. The only thing anyone, even the captain, will get is a ’no’. Do I make myself clear?”  
”As clear as day.”  
  
  
TBC


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Ninetyfour days and nights. And with the sound from Ben’s nightmares and ghosts still ringing in his ears. A cup of fresh water is brought to his lips, to wash the taste away. A soft hand on his shoulder, another one holding his hand. How easy a comforting touch can be…"

Three months. Or ninetyfour days to be exactly. That’s how long it’s been since he saw him. Sharing his bed? That would be almost two more added. Apart from one or two men he’s met over the years that didn’t seem interested in sex at all, this is the longest Billy’s heard any free man, not badly wounded, ill or being a monk, going without sex. This particular brothel in Tortuga, is one he used to visit before he met Ben, whenever they ported here. He used to like it. The mollies are mostly both funny to talk to and easy on the eyes. One of them, a man with brown curls approaches him.  
  
”Good evening, handsome.”  
”Good evening, pretty boy.”  
  
It’s been a while since he had a man on his lap, especially a delicate, almost girlish creature like this. He’s laying an arm around Billy’s shoulders.  
  
”I couldn’t help but notice, you seem a bit lonely. How come such a handsome man like you is sitting all by himself, staring down his drink?”  
”I’m not very keen on casual sex, actually.”  
”Oh, the domestic type?”  
”At least I thought I was.”  
”Not to be snoopy, but you have the look of a rejected lover written all over your face.”  
”Well, that’s not entirely wrong.”  
”I’m sorry. Is there anything I could do to make your evening a little brighter?”  
”You’re very handsome and I’m sure it would be a delight to be in your bed, but I’m not in the mood, pretty boy.”  
”Poor thing…”  
”What?”  
”You weren’t just in love, you really loved him, right?”  
”No point in denying that, I guess. Must be quite obvious.”  
”I’m so sorry. Are you sure there’s nothing I could do for you?”  
”You could just keep me company, if that’s not against the madam’s rules. I have money, of course.”  
”Happily, my love.”  
”Oh, and could you just, please not call me love, or sweetheart or darling?”  
”Certainly, my dear. I aim to please.”  
  
Yes, he is. And good at it. It feels good to hold another man again, even if it’s only an arm around his waiste, the weight of his dressed body on your dressed lap. A teasing rub from his ass against your cock and the impressive glance it elicits from the molly’s nut brown eyes. Yes, Billy is a big man in more than one way and no one would blame him if he fucked this molly senseless. But he wont. It’s not a question of morality. He doesn’t feel any guilt for needing sex or closeness, but what he shared with the blue eyed man with blonde hair keeps getting in his way.  
  
”Would you like to have some more private company, big man?”  
”Depends. Still don’t want to fuck.”  
”Oh, that’s not against the rules, my dear. As long as you pay, the madam doesn’t care if you fuck me sore, piss in my face or suck on my nipples like a newborn babe.”  
”Wont do anything of that, I assure you. But some… peace and quiet would be nice.”  
”Yeah? Follow me then, my dear.”  
”I must warn you, what’s your name, pretty boy…?”  
”Silk.”  
”No, not your… working name. Your real name?”  
”Richard.”  
”Richard… My name’s Billy Bones and I’m not a very happy man at the moment.”  
”I understand that. What can I do for you, Billy Bones?”  
”I could use your shoulder…  and your pretty ears. If you don’t mind.”  
”Oh… Of course I don’t mind. Let’s go.”  
  
It’s not the same as with Vane, but in a way it’s even better. Just letting everything out: the sorrow, the anger, the guilt and frustration to a complete stranger that doesnt know Billy, Ben or anything about their lives. Not having to watch his words, use half-lies to sooth a wounded mind or explain anything. He rests his head in Richard’s lap, crying, cursing and emptying himself of every incoherent thought and feeling.  
  
Billy needs this. More than he needs a fuck, a drink or a moment of laughter. To be weak, broken and inconsistent without thinking. Richard’s hands are good, very good at this kind of comfort. They’re lean and soft, almost too soft to belong to a man, even softer than many hands from female whores that Billy’s felt on his body. No wonder he’s called Silk. The soothing touch unleashes feelings Billy has put away for too long now. Yes, he’s cried, cursed and showed despair and exhaustion to a lot of people since Ben was taken from him, but this is the first time he’s truly letting every word out, without being interrupted. Only when he’s completely out of tears and words, and has spent a long time just breathing and sobbing softly in Richard’s lap, the delicate creature opens his mouth.  
  
”Can I talk, my dear?”  
”Yes… Sorry for this…”  
”Don’t be. You needed this, that’s obvious. Would you like something to drink? Some wine, perhaps?”  
”Please.”  
  
A small cup, but it tastes really good. Richard is straddling his thighs again, but doesn’t push at his groin. He keeps the distance and uses a cool, wet cloth on Billy’s tear sullen face.  
  
”How are you feeling?”  
”Better, thanks to you.”  
”Haven’t really done anything, big man.”  
”Yes, you have. You let me act like a babbling looney and a whiny child without coming with any advices. Thank you.”  
”I’m glad it helped.”  
”This must seem quite stupid to you, I guess.”  
”Love is always and never stupid, my dear. I’m getting paid to provide the dream of it and trust me, I know the difference between tears from simple loneliness and tears from a broken heart. I can see that you must love him very deeply and from what you’ve told me, I’m sure he has the same love for you. I’m only a whore, but believe me, I’m genuinely sorry for both of you. ”  
”Thank you. I’m not one to look down on whores, you can take my word for it. And yes, I love him more than I’ve loved anyone or anything, but he doesn’t love me anymore.”  
”It actually sounds like he does, only he’s been mindfucked, raped and blames himself for it.”  
  
He sounds like it’s obvious. Billy drops his chin.  
  
”He was _abducted_. How could he possibly be blaming himself?”  
”I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that, but…”  
”No, go on! I’m lost, Richard, and I’d value your opinion.”  
”A whore’s opinion?”  
”Who knows more about men than whores?”  
”Good point. Well… about the rape. I’ve been raped a number of times, no big surprise in this work, as you might guess. It doesn’t happen that often these days, but for some reason you just never get used to it the same way you get used to bruises and shit tasting assholes, if you get the point?”  
”I do. Have been raped myself, when I was fourteen. Was press ganged and it happened several times. Happened again some months before I met Ben, when I was captured by the British Navy.”  
”I’m sorry to hear that. Hope they got what they deserved.”  
”Some of them, at least.”  
”But there were no women?”  
”No.”  
”Have you ever heard of man getting raped by a woman before?”  
”Not that I can think of. What’s your point? It doesn’t matter.”  
”Actually I think it does.”  
”I’m confused.”  
  
Richard fills his cup and leaves his lap to sit beside him.  
  
”Most men, I would say almost everyone I’ve come across, no matter if it’s in my bed or elsewhere, have one thing in common.”  
”And what’s that?”  
”The fear of not being in complete control. In this particular thing, it’s far easier to be a woman or a molly, my dear. We can admit weakness and use tears and submissiveness to make men yield to us. It’s our role to play, to pretend we’re not in control even if we are. A molly is presumed to be vulnerable, submissive and in need of protection. Or punishment, depending on what kind of customer you’re dealing with, of course.”  
”Sorry, but I still don’t follow?”  
”It’s bad enough for a man to be raped by having another man’s cock shoveled up his ass. Imagine a woman you hate, who manage to get you hard… And while riding you she keeps telling you all these disgusting, religious bullshit, convincing you you’re enjoying it all ’cause after all, you’re hard.”  
”Stop. Please, I have to…”  
  
Empty another kind of fluid in the basin standing on the small table next to the bed. Wine combined with too much emotions usually makes Billy throw up. That’s why he tries not to mix them. And memories of rapes, doesn’t matter if they’re old, should not be combined with thoughts of the fresh wound that made him abandon his home and husband.  
  
Ninetyfour days and nights. And with the sound from Ben’s nightmares and ghosts still ringing in his ears. A cup of fresh water is brought to his lips, to wash the taste away. A soft hand on his shoulder, another one holding his hand. _How easy a comforting touch can be…_  
  
”God… _I never…_ What should I do, Richard?”  
”Depends on how much you’re willing to sacrifice, I guess.”  
”I wish I knew that. Sometimes, when I tried to take care of him… I believed I could stand anything, literally _anything_ for him. T’was as if I was numb. All I could think of was him, how his voice sounded, how his eyes shifted… Trying to figure out when I had my man before me and when it was a stranger.”  
”Christ… You must have been terrified, both of you. Neither of you recognizing him… _Of course_ you had to leave!”  
”So you say it’s hopeless?”  
”Not at all! Leaving doesn’t mean it has to be forever. But all that time watching over him, at least some part of you must’ve known it couldn’t stay that way too long without wearing you out. Loving him doesn’t make you a god, my friend. You can’t wipe out his memories with sweet words and soft hands. You have to talk about what happened.”  
”What good would that do? He doesn’t remembers and if I could choose, I wouldn’t remember the number of times I was raped either.”  
”But you do.”  
  
_Every single one of them…_ They have talked about them, he and Ben. Not much, only mentioned them during their long, calm conversations in the dark, when they slowly opened up about their wounds. Some more visible, like Ben’s nightmares, and others that were hidden. Memories that required darkness, privacy and most of all time and patience. Fingers entwined, steady heartbeats to calm speeded ones. Old scars and memories being exposed, one by one, under lovers careful touches. The light brush from fingers. _I see, I hear, I feel you’ve been hurt. Your pain is mine too now, you’re not alone anymore. I’m not alone anymore and when we’re together, when we share the pain, it can’t control us._  
  
”When are you going back to Nassau again?”  
”Don’t know, really. Not too long.”  
”You havn’t seen him when you’ve ported there since you left?”  
”No. I always leave for the more sparsely populated parts of the island. Sleep in my tent. But I never go to town.”  
”God… What does your mates say?”  
”Nothing. Guess the captain has told them not to make questions, so they don’t. They respect him.”  
”They respect you.”  
”That too. They’re good men, most of them, despite what the world calls them.”  
”Same goes for whores. You do what you have to in order to survive in this shitty world. When you get back to Nassau, go see your man and tell him he has nothing to be ashamed of. To hell with shame, Billy Bones.”  
”To hell with shame…”  
  
TBC


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I don’t give a shit about the corpses. I only want to see them because they remind me about him.”

”Hello? Ben?”  
”Oh… just a moment!”  
  
Max puts the basket down and makes herself comfortable by the table. She could’ve sent Idelle but she hasn’t met Ben in two weeks and wants to see for herself. The gibbets have not been removed from the square and the two corpses are but poorly dressed skeletons by now. There have been some complainments about it, especially from the pastor, but the answer is always the same, no matter if you ask Max, Flint or Silver. Some have even tried to get Rackham, Bonny and Featherstone to persuade Max to remove it. Everytime with the same answer: no one touches the corpses without permission from Billy Bones. Or Ben Gunn.  
  
Ben Gunn… Max doesn’t know what to make of this man. The small house he used to share with Billy is clean with simple furniture. And drenched in dried herbs and flowers. Oh, and the scent of fresh bread and pastries. The man himself is busy with cutting a new block of soap in managable pieces. His head is covered with a green cloth.  
  
”What fragrance did you use on that one?”  
”Coconut. But it’s a bit strong, I think… Maybe it need to be mixed with something else.”  
”I have the spices you asked for. And even more cinnamon.”  
”Wonderful! Would you like some tea?”  
”Yes, please.”  
  
Ben’s different kind of teas are all delicious and just as popular as his soaps and pastries among the girls. To be fair, it’s not only the inn’s employees who loves them. The cinnamon buns have quickly became one of the inn’s most wanted dishes and more than one feared and scarred pirate have secretly asked for a soap with this or that particular fragrance. Hygiene is becoming more popular in Nassau, much to the prostitutes delight, and they thank for it with their silence. Very few people know who’s making the soaps, oils, teas and pastries and they keep their mouths shut about it. Max is not a person you want to cross these days.  
  
He’s working hard, Ben Gunn. A strain of hair has came loose from the cloth and he’s sweaty. He’s drying his face on another cloth and opens the cupboard.  
  
”Which flavour?”  
”Surprise me.”  
  
He smiles a little.  
  
”You’re my number one tea test person. No flavor passes that door without your approval.”  
  
He opens one of the jars and put some leaves in the tea pot, adding boiling water to it. It’s still quite early and Max hasn’t eaten anything yet, partly because a fresh piece of Ben’s bread with butter and honey is worth waiting for and no friend ever leaves this house without eating something. The two devil cats, as Max calls them in silence, keep looking at her as if she’s an intruder, but at least they don’t try to bite her heels this time. Progress. When Ben finally sits down, and serving freshly baked bread he’s still sweaty.  
  
”I see you’re keeping yourself busy.”  
”If anyone told me you could get more tired from fucking herbs and pastries than going on the account a year ago, I’d laughed.”  
”Well, you’re making a small fortune on them. The girls practically say their prayers to you nowadays.”  
”Good to know someone can answer them.”  
  
The slight bitterness in Ben’s quiet voice is hardly noticable, but Max knows him quite well by now. She sips on her tea.  
  
”Lemon and cinnamon… it’s lovely.”  
”Thank you. How do you like the pastry?”  
  
She takes a big bite on the hot bread and soon a blissful look appears on her face.  
  
”Oh, _mon Dieu_! This is just… _delicious_! What is this?”  
”Croissants.”  
”French, _oui_?”  
”Oui, madame.”  
”C’est très, _très bien_ , mon chere!”  
”Merci. They require a lot of butter, but it’s worth it.”  
”If I buy these for the girls, they’ll do nothing but eat…”  
”Maybe you should keep them to yourself, then.”  
”Maybe that’s for the best… I havn’t tasted anything this good since... I don’t know.”  
  
Ben smiles at her lustful eating. Max is truly a woman who knows how to take pleasure and express is. But soon she gets serious again, brushing some crumbles from her dress.  
  
”On another subject: I spoke to Vane this morning. Before they left.”  
  
The man’s grip on the tea cup tightens, as does his face.  
  
”And?”  
”He’s alive. And he still carries the ring.”  
”Stupid man…”  
”Stupid?”  
”It’s been months now. He should forget about me.”  
”How could he? He loves you, Ben.”  
”He left. With Vane. And yes, I know he’s not lying to me and no, I’ve not forgotten about the letter, but let’s face it, Max. It’s too late for… whatever it was between us.”  
  
Max takes his hand.  
  
”How’s your memory?”  
  
Ben shrugs.  
  
”Better and better. Wich unfortunately only makes me feel worse. The work helps a lot, thou.”  
”I understand you need to keep occupied and I think it’s good for you.”  
”But?”  
”You can’t make Billy disappear with tea, soaps and pastries, Ben. We both know who should be sitting here and have the first taste your creations and it isn’t me.”  
”I guess you’re here to ask me about the gibbets…”  
”Not primarly, but yes. Featherstone and Rackham keep asking about them.”  
”They think I don’t want to remove them for Billy’s sake?”  
”Yes.”  
  
Ben’s smile was rare long before the abduction and Max hasn’t seen him smile in months.  
  
”Funny… I always thought stories about killing for love were stupid. I mean, what does a corpse prove? But seeing that gibbet, Max, is like recieving a token of love. Whenever I can’t sleep, I go to watch it. If I know Billy right, he wanted to wait for me to kill them, but I have to say this feels just as good. I don’t give a shit about the corpses. I only want to see them because they remind me about _him_.”  
  
TBC


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The bottles and jars are standing beside Billy’s mattress. He swallows hard when he sees the handwriting, closing his eyes and laying down again.
> 
> ”Just tell me what you know. Everything, Charles.”

”What’s this?”  
”Soap.”  
”Yeah, I kind of see that, Charles. Are you insinuating something? Because if you are, I have to remind you of twentysix other men who’re in greater need of soap.”  
”You don’t like it?”  
”It smells like… fucking _peaches_.”  
”How about the tea?”  
”Tea? What’s _wrong_ with you, Charles?”  
”Alright, nevermind the tea. Take a look at the bath oil instead.”  
”Bath-what…? Have you tried out a new kind of opium lately?”  
”No, but I really should do if you keep asking stupid questions. Just take a look, you idiot!”  
”Where did you get these?”  
”From Max.”  
”She’s running a fucking perfume and tea store now?”  
”No. But the girls loves the bath oils and they’re pretty appreciated by the customers.”  
”And why are you giving me fucking bath oils? Fuck! How many did you buy!?”  
  
Vane just shakes his head and gives an exasparated moan.  
  
”Jesus... Just look at the damn _labels_ , Billy!”  
  
Delicate names written by a swirly hand… _Bed Of Roses, Moonlight Shadows , Summers Day Delight, Peach Dream_ … Who the fuck made these? The handwriting is familiar, but… _The handwriting_.  
  
Oil and tea all over the floor. Glass pieces, heart pieces…  Vane’s arms and his fading voice:  
  
”Holy shit!”  
  
Billy comes to his senses in Vane’s tent a little while later, with the captain sitting by his side with a undecipherable look on his face.   
  
”What happened?”  
”You passed out. From roses and peaches. If I didn’t know how you are in battle, I might get concerned you’re turning into a fair maiden.”  
”Fuck you, Charles.”

The bottles and jars are standing beside Billy’s mattress. He swallows hard when he sees the handwriting, closing his eyes and laying down again.  
  
”Just tell me what you know. Everything, Charles.”  
”I heard about them before I went to the inn. Came across a whore I used to meet and she smelled… you know, different. So when I asked, she told me there was a new supplier in town, producing all these oils and soaps for Max to sell. Apparently making quite a good amount of money on them. And on teas and pastries as well.”  
”Pastries?”  
”Yes, pastries. Does that remind you of someone?”  
”He’s alive…”  
”Alive and, if you’re to believe Idelle, quite well. Still living in your house, not as terribly skinny as before and delivering pastries, tee, bath oils and soaps to the inn every week. In secret.”  
”He… remembers me?”  
”Yes. And misses you.”  
”God…”  
”Fuck, Billy, don’t… oh what the hell, it’s better you break down here than in front of him…”  
”I’m not breaking, Charles!”  
”Of course not. Come here.”  
  
Just shivering, crying and breathing like he’s been to battle or riding a storm, but not breaking. At least not in more pieces than Charles Vane and a ridiculous hope can put back together again.  
  
TBC


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "This love you feel you waste away on me  
> What kind of love will let us bleed away?  
> No kind of love will make us bleed away."
> 
> -What Kind Of Love-  
> Avantasia

It’s always been easy to forget just how dangerous that man is. When you’ve never heard a mean word, felt a cruel touch or recieved a hateful gaze from him, and not been on the account together, it’s actually quite hard to imagining him as a feral, brutal fighter. Or a vengeful lover. One who will hold a couple, a man and a woman, captured long enough only to make them regret every single touch on you. In the half darkness Ben recently has been able to feel safe in again, he can allow the memories to flow just a little.  
  
His picture of Billy has been bright from the very beginning. Maybe it’s because Billy _Bones’_ reputation never preceded him. After all: they met in a fucking cage, wasn’t known to each other before that and still they’ve never been at sea in battle together. To Ben Gunn, the name Billy Bones has never been associated with anything but a sweetness he didn’t know you could wish for. A shoulder to rest a feverish head on. A soothing voice, calm and careful hands holding you in a soft embrace. A man that didn’t give two shits about anyones opinion on the matter. Nothing with him seemed threatening to Ben. Not until that couple did _that_. And now they, and Ben, knew exactly how things could turn out for any man or woman that dared to cross Billy Bones.  
  
People. Men or women. They haven’t mattered very much to Ben in the past. His old crew, of course, but the memories of his relatives are blurry at best. He’s always been a bit too quiet, too – in lack of a more suitable word – well educated and interrested in things apart from treasure, battles and liqor – not to mention women – to melt in properly in a crew. And then Billy Bones ended up in that cage, turning months of loneliness and despair to something else. The smallest sign from Ben, and he was there in an instance. Not talking, just tightening his embrace a little, offering some body heat against his chest when a shoulder wasn’t enough to ease Ben’s feverish shivers.  
  
Memories… they’re floating unimpeded in the darkness now…  The embrace of Billy Bones had been the first time Ben felt any kind of safety since the storm drove his ship to pieces on the shores of the Marooner’s island. The tall, strong man with English accent and blue eyes was the first person asking for his name in months, the first human being not meeting his gaze with disgust or despise. The only one among the other captives that even considered to really talk to him, not treating him like a mad man. How he’d never been far from Ben’s side, helping out in a very discrete way, not to embarressing him or exposing any weakness. Nothing seemed to scare him away and Ben had opened up like a flower to the sun, dwelling in the gaze that was for him only.  
  
The first night they’d not fallen asleep next to each other, some weeks after they were back in Nassau, had been so lonely Ben felt ashamed to admit it even to himself. He couldn’t sleep, couldn’t stop thinking about where Billy was, if he was safe, if something would happen to him, if he shouldn’t come back again... And when he heard the light footsteps just before dawn, seeing the silhouette of the man taking his weapons and boots off, quietly laying down next to him and pulling him close, Ben had hidden his face against Billy’s chest and finally went to sleep, lulled to rest from the other man’s heartbeats and the content humming in his hair.  
  
Despite the fact Ben’s alone in the house now, he feels safe. Lonely, but safe. The people who’ve tortured and humiliated him are long since dead, executed by the man who refused to feel any shame. A man that would never leave Ben before being certain of his protection. Their friends have kept watch over him all this time, Ben has slowly came to realise – and sort of accept – that. Someone they trust are stationed outside the house every night, close enough to hear if something’s not right, and the only reason they do that, is beacuse Billy loves him. But after all that’s happened, all that Ben still isn't sure of, does it really matter? It’s too easy to forget how close he was to put a bullet in his darling man’s head. What kind of love could possibly survive that?  
  
TBC


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little Silverflint passage... After all, they think they rule Nassau (we all know it's Max, Idelle and Featherstone who're the real rulers) but we love them anyway.

Captain James Flint really didn’t want to admit it, but he missed Billy. Loyalty was a rare quality in a man and it was all too easy to fully appreciate it once you didn’t have it anymore. Under other circumstances, James would’ve felt betrayed. Billy had been offered a place in Vane’s crew earlier but never, not even when he was Vane’s lover, considered to leave James’ side. Through peace and war, bad luck and good fortune, doldrums, captivity, torture and war, Billy had remained loyal to James and the crew he’d seen as brothers since the day he learned how it felt when a hand didn’t reach him to cause pain, but give comfort. Truth was, how much James didn’t want to admit it, he didn’t know the man he missed.

”What are you thinking about, James?”  
”You’re awake?”  
  
He turned around to face the man who’d started out as a lousy cook, a thief and the most dangerous opportunist James had ever came across. The beard, but most of all the small wrinkles around his eyes and the barely noticable expressions of pain from the leg made him look so different from the bright-eyed man with a dashing smile that managed to worm himself into James’ heart. Different, but somehow even more beautiful. To loose him would be unbarable. He pulled John close and printed a kiss on his temple.  
  
”Alright, what was that about?”  
”You can’t give your husband a morning kiss now without an ulterior motive? How unromantic…”  
”Who said anything about ulterior motives? It’s not my fault I can read your face like a treasure map.”  
  
John gave him a sleepy smile, eyelashes resting on the cheeks and the dark curls in a mess all over the pillow.  
  
”I know something is troubling you, dear husband. Why don’t you tell me what it is?”  
”I overheard Captain Naft on the tavern the other day. The Ranger is back.”  
”And?”  
”Vane bought some of Ben’s products and then went straight back to his ship.”  
”I see. He wont come ashore this time either… Guess we have to wait a while longer.”  
”It’s been three months and you know as well as I that Ben has made a remarkable recovery.”  
”Maybe Billy hasn’t.”  
”Poor man…”  
”I’ll talk to him when I’m awake.”  
”You’re awake now.”  
”Nah-uh. Still tired and it’s your fault.”  
”Is it now?”  
”You disturbed my sleep with your thinking. That wasn’t very nice of you.”  
”Really? I’m a bad husband this morning, is that what you’re saying?”  
  
James let his hand travel alongside his husband’s lean hip and the curve of his ass, squeezing it playfully while nibbling the earlobe hidden in the messy curls. John gave a pleased moan.  
  
”I think… um… you could make it up to me in… ah…  a way that may benefit us both.”  
”Is that so, my mischievous little blanket thief?”  
”If you’re cold, then come and warm yourself on me, sweet husband. I’m sure the world could wait a little longer for the fearsome duo of Captain Flint and Long John Silver.”  
  
It wasn’t long before John was undulating under James’ fingers and tongue, pushing back for more, chasing pleasure with every move. James loved this side of his husband. So relaxed and trusting, meeting his every touch with sweet cries and moans and then the pleased smile as James slowly pushed his cock all the way in, eliciting a gasp from the beautiful mouth. Allowing himself to show weakness had been a very difficult step for John. Submissiveness of any kind wasn’t in his nature, if you didn’t count the occasions he had to fake it in order to survive. To give in, show any deeper needs or hidden wounds was something John was utterly unfamiliar with and it required huge efforts and patience from James’ side to make his lover and later on husband comfortable with telling James what he needed and yearned for.  
  
When they were both spent and John laid curled up like a content kitten on his chest, James slowly returned to reality. His former first mate was back and not even two master scheamers and manipulators like Captain Flint and Long John Silver had the slightest idea of how things could turn out.  
  
TBC


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ”Do you still love him, Vane?”
> 
> He just sighs.
> 
> ”Of course I love him, Ben."

”Are you just going to stand there or what?”  
”Was actually trying to be polite.”  
”Come in then.”  
  
I can’t help but snort. Charles Vane being fucking polite? I don’t really know this man, Billy’s former – and perhaps present? – lover, but he’s definately not hard on the eyes. _His_ eyes are feral, catlike. Somehow it surprises me they’re blue, but when I come to think about it, I know Billy has a thing for blue eyes. Oh, and long hair. Vane keep parts of his hair in small braids and the sight makes me touch my own hair, without even thinking about it first. Then I realise what I’m doing and turn my attention to the soap I’m about to cut.  
  
”What do you want?”  
”Talk.”  
”And what would we have to talk about, huh? Tea? Soaps? Cats, perhaps? Or the fact that my husband left me for you?”  
  
He doesn’t seem the least offended or even surprised. Instead he takes up Ember, who’s standing by his feet to sniff on the intruder. She doesn’t protest so I guess Vane, despite his looks and reputation, can be gentle.  
  
”Last I saw you, you were tied to your bed and Billy cried himself to sleep. A least something has changed.”  
”Did you come to gloat or just point out the obvious?”  
”You’re jealous.”  
  
Yes, I am. Jealous as hell, but considering the circumstances I really have no right to blame Billy even if he’d slept with every man available to Tortuga and back. And whatever I feel, it’s not something I want to share with Vane.  
  
”I’m many things, Ben Gunn, but I’m not and will never be a liar. I havn’t slept with your man and he hasn’t slept with anyone since the last time you shared a bed. Yes, he has slept beside me sometimes, but I don’t really think holding a crying man is anywhere close to fucking him. Won’t ask for forgiveness for giving him a little comfort.”  
  
Ember is purring in his hands and he sits down at the table, stretching out his long legs in a little too relaxed pose. He smirks.  
  
”It’s funny… You and I, we haven’t really talked before, despite all that we have in common.”  
”If you’re referring to Billy, I hardly think he counts for a shared interest if you’re not, as you say, fucking him.”  
”Well, neither are you. For now, we actually have that in common too. We’ve both fucked and been fucked by Billy, but not anymore. For entirely different reasons, of course, but still.”  
”Why are you here, Vane?”  
”Thought that was obvious. In case you’re wondering, he passed out when he saw the labels on your little fragrance supplies.”  
”He what?”  
”Fainted. Right where he stood, that damn giant. And when he came to his senses, he cried.  Actually, I think most time I’ve spent alone with him these three months, he has cried. It’s fucking exhausting, I’ll tell you that. So, to answer your question: I guess I wanted to have a good look at the man who crashed Billy’s reputation as the most loyal and honest pirate in the damn Caribbean. You have _no idea_ how many times I asked that stubborn idiot to join my crew, only to get the same fucking answer about loyalty every single time. What does it tell you, when a man who’s main quality is his loyalty, abandon his captain and crew?”  
”What’s your point?”  
”I watched him look after you, Ben. I watched him look _for_ you ’til his feet were fucking bloody and he was so scared nothing anyone said could calm him. He ran, raged and cried himself to sleep and when Anne, Idelle and Featherstone brought you back, I almost had to restrain him, to keep him from running straight to you and cause a fucking internal bleeding. I watched him keep watch over you, act calm by your side until I had to force him to rest.”  
  
Have never imagine Vane being one to talk much, and certainly not with this kind of passion about such personal things. He sounds upset and tired. But most of all worried. He’s doing this for Billy. He loves him, he doesn’t have to say it, I can see it in his eyes and hear it in his voice. When he pauses to catch his breath, I ask:  
  
”Do you still love him, Vane?”  
  
He just sighs.  
  
”Of course I love him, Ben. He’s my dearest friend and I trust him more than any other human being. But I’m not, nor was I ever, _in love_ with him or he with me. I know he’s told you about us and I most certainly didn’t see what happened to you as an opportunity to start fucking your husband. Christ, Ben, all he’s been thinking of since the day you were taken from him, is you! There isn’t room for anything or anyone else in his heart but you and the moment he looses what little hope he has left that you’ll come back to him for real, he’ll either deliberately get himself killed in one stupid raid or another, or drink himself to death. He’s been yours since that fucking cage and if you didn’t loose your mind entirely when you were captured, I think you know that.”  
  
I don’t like it, but the more he talks, the less offended I am. But there’s one thing no words can change.  
  
”I threatened to kill him…”  
”And?”  
  
I squeeze my cup a bit to hard.  
  
”You think this is something to just shrug off?”  
”What kind of a pirate are you, Ben? Fuck… Billy and I have hold a gun to each other more than once and we never had even close to a reason as good as yours. You were _fucking mad_ at the time, Ben! Men blame _a lot_ of things, from the plain stupid ones to the utterly insane on a little too much rum, but for some fucked up reason _you_ can’t understand that what happened that day shouldn’t have happened if you weren’t taken from him.”  
  
Still can’t come up with an answer, I’m frozen on my spot, only following Vane’s upset walking across the floor.  
  
”For fucks sake, Ben! Do you _want_ Billy to die on the account with me? You want me to leave and then come back some day to bring you news of his death only because you didn’t dare to let him close again? ’Cause that’s what’s going to happen if you keep going like this and I don’t like the thought of seeing the man who rescued me from the gallows end up dead from a reason as insane as a little shame.”  
  
Nothing is as it should be, hasn’t been since that day, but when is it ever? I swallow hard and face the former lover, now close friend, to the man I used to call husband.  
  
”Can you bring a message to him?”  
  
TBC


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Whatever that’s left of my good memories, I’d like to keep them, no matter if it’s you or me that will end my life tonight."

I’ve spent so much time thinking about the most natural way to greet you I almost forget there’s no natural way to do it. At all. How does ”good evening, Ben, how’s the last three months been” sound like? Or ”do you recognize me now”? How about ”did you miss me”? That’s right. Fucking stupid.  
  
Of course you’re angry with me. I didn’t need Charles to go and find that out for me, but I’m still glad he did. That he told me you’re looking much more healthier. That you remember. I should be grateful, I guess, for you not only being alive, but apparently well too. But remembrance isn’t the same as forgiveness. Or love.  And the message from you doesn’t have to mean anything but a short meeting on neutral ground. If you’re coming at all.  
  
I sit down in the sand. Waiting. If you’re not coming, I don’t want to realise it by looking at the town and see how the sun moves towards darkness while you remain absent. I prefer to stare at the sea. There was a time when I hated it. When I was press ganged and the ship that took me was a floating prison with nothing but shark festered water as a way out. I never thought time could pass as slow as it did in those shackles. How wrong I was.  
  
If you’re approaching me with the intention to shoot or stab me, I really have no objection this time. I wont beg for my life. Have finally realised there isn’t a life worth living for me without you by my side and if you don’t love me anymore and won’t forgive me, I actually find it suitable if it’s you who put an end to my life. The fact that you’ve managed to build some kind of life in my absence doesn’t have to mean that you want me in it. And still I can’t help but asking myself if you really have more right to hate me for leaving, than I have to hate you for putting a gun to my head? Was that my reward for trying to save your life? For all the nights I watched over you, the wounds I took care of, the nightmares I calmed you from and the words that sometimes hurt me so bad I couldn’t stop the tears.  
  
God, all these tears... There have been nights and dawns when I wept so much, it even scared Charles. Times when I didn’t want to drink myself to sleep, afraid it would make me too tired and sloppy the next day, and then realised too late it would’ve been a better way to deal with it. Hours when words were meaningless and all I could do was to let Charles hold me in silence. It was during those hours I realised I was paying the full price for being stupid enough to give my heart to a man utterly and completely. When I finally put the pieces together and admitted to myself there could be no easy way out of that kind of commitment. I couldn’t run away, not drown it in liqour, not erase it by fixing my gaze at the glorious horizon and not turn my eyes again before I couldn’t see the shore I left.  
  
If you’re sneaking up on me, to stick a knife in my back, at least I have a beautiful view before me: a calm ocean. And if you’re not coming, I don’t want to know how Nassau looks in the fading sun while I’m once again having my heart ripped in pieces. Whatever that’s left of my good memories, I’d like to keep them, no matter if it’s you or me that will end my life tonight.  
  
TBC


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ”It was you who left.”  
> ”And you who put a gun in my face.”

The steps in the sand can’t be heard from the sound from the ocean. The man sitting on the beach, doesn’t even flinch when the man who the steps belongs to, sits down behind him. They don’t touch, there’s distance between the two still very much alive bodies in the sand. They don’t talk, don’t cry. The only sounds come from waves on shore, the wind in the trees and birds and beasts passing by.  
  
There was a time when the two men on the beach didn’t have to talk very much. When the silence between them was a sign of peace. Of happiness. They’ve both heard enough love stories, survived enough hopeless situations and are both still so much in touch with their hearts, they’re stupid enough to bare a little hope. But none of them are so stupid, they don’t feel the difference between there old silence and this one.  
  
The shorter man is standing just a little bit further back from the water, but still within distance to hear the taller man’s voice. Only he doesn’t speak. From distance, the taller man looks the same. The hair is still kept short, close to the scalp. His body and features are the same, so are the style of his clothes. Simple and practical, no vivid colours. Not recently shaved, but there’s no beard to talk of. The shorter man feels the anger rush inside. _How dare he look so much the same?_  
  
”You left.”  
”I did.”  
”Thought I’d never see you again.”  
”Nor I you.”  
”Why are you here?”  
”The same reason you are, I guess.”  
”And what’s that?”  
”To see if there’s really anything to go back to.”  
”It was you who left.”  
”And you who put a gun in my face.”  
”That wasn’t what I wanted… I wasn’t myself.”  
”Didn’t want to leave either. So I guess we’re even on that one.”  
”Even? Fucking _even_?!”  
  
It’s so much easier to argue with someone you love desperately, if it’s clear who’s fault it is. If one of you is the villain, the asshole who should’ve known better than betray you. The two men on the beach are facing each other now, but they don’t really look. Or listen. They’ve never had a real falling out with each other before, not like this. They’re not even listening to what’s said, don’t care to let each other finish a sentence, even less try to sound reasonable. They’re beyond reason and since the people to be blamed in the first place are already dead and rotten, there’s really no one to let out months of anger, sorrow and frustration on but the one who was taken from you.  
  
The taller man isn’t, despite the reports, prepared for the changes in the shorter man’s appearance. The clear, blue eyes that doesn’t seem the least crazy anymore. Angry, disappointed and fucking sad, but not crazy. The blonde hair that has regrown a couple of inches and the nervous, crouching posture is gone. In his absence, the shorter man seem to have been just fine and the relief is struggling to share place with the anger and the shame the taller man feels for wishing his absence wouldn’t have made the man look healthier. To bare visible signs of the same despair he has felt on sea these months. As if there was a competition. As if it could be any victory in a loved ones pain, ever.  
  
”I knew you were going to leave me, Billy!”  
”Then why did you fucking keep the ring, huh?”  
  
The taller man’s voice bares so much pain it’s impossible to ignore it. It cuts through the layers of anger, shame and regret that has grown over the shorter man’s heart since he was taken and suddenly he seems to be lost for words. He sinks to his knees in the sand, exhausted from the outburst and the quarrel, once again feeling small, too small in the presence of the taller man. Why is it always he who’s the broken one? The one in need for care, for protection? The one too weak even to defend himself against a woman, to powerless even to control his own body when… The shame is too much, too heavy to bare.  
  
”I let her do that to me.”  
”You didn’t let her do _anything_ , Ben!”  
  
The taller man is almost throwing himself at him, taking his face between his hands and piercing his oh so blue gaze into the shorter man’s eyes.  
  
”You fucking listen to me now! You. Didn’t. _Let her._ You really think I’m that stupid, that I don’t know you can get hard even when you don’t want to, huh? She _fucking raped_ you! Do you remember what we were doing in the morning that day, only hours before you were taken?”  
”What does it matter what we…”  
”Do. You. _Remember_?!”  
”We were fucking. So what?”  
”So what? You still don’t remember the difference between fucking and making love? You still think I was seducing you? That what we did was shameful and wrong?”  
”Stop it!”  
"No! I'm not fucking stopping, Ben. Not this time."  
  
The grip is tightening around the shorter mans’ face, the taller man coming so close the noses are almost touching.  
  
” _You. Didn’t. Left me_ , _Ben!_ She took you from me, and then she took you again. Don’t you think I know who was pointing that gun at me? That you were mind fucked as shit? I left because I was fucking exhausted and afraid you’d might shoot me in my sleep! Half the times you were conscious, you didn’t even recognise me and I’ll tell you it’s not easy to stay calm when someone you love accuses you for seducing, destroying and fucking… _mock the nature and God_ simply by loving him! To keep in mind it wasn’t he who was talking. To not know if you were ever coming back to me again, or even remember what we shared…”  
  
For the first time since the morning when the shorter man hold a gun to the taller man’s head, they’re completely alone, with no friends to watch over them, to step in if things are getting ugly. The taller man doesn’t yet realise he’s crying, or that the shorter man is slowly relaxing between his hands.  
  
”I’ve never, not once since I first layed eyes on you in that cage, wanted another man than you, Ben Gunn, and I’ve not shared a man’s bed since the last time I had you. And just to be fucking clear: it was easy! Not to not having you, but to stay away from other men. All, _fucking all_ I could think about was you and even if we’re not sharing a bed ever again, if you’re asking me to leave and never return to you, I seriously doubt it will be easy for me to forget you, or stop longing for you. I’m here because whatever that’s left between us, I’m still stupid enough to long for it.”

The shorter man is yielding. Not to the taller man’s will or strenght, not to his touch, his anger or frustrated words. He doesn’t really know why he sits back, holding his hands as a support around the crying face. Why he’s not talking back, leaving or simply locking himself up and get out of reach for the feelings that are bleeding from the taller man, who’s exhausted and suddenly out of words. The shorter man doesn’t talk, but he’s carefully getting closer, loosening the taller man’s grip around his face, moving the hands down to his shoulders and then pulling him close in a silent embrace.  
  
TBC


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Here alone now I'm staring at the sea,  
> behind the far horizon  
> Is there a better place for me?
> 
> Afraid to drown, afraid to dive,  
> scared by fears and the hot sunlight, yeah.
> 
> And I dance in the rain, dive in the pool of life,  
> wash away the poison.  
> And I dance through this pain,  
> my body in a starless night,  
> to wash away the poison from my soul,  
> turn it to gold.
> 
> Between the devil and the deep sea  
> I don't know how to carry on.  
> I only feel that inner force  
> that's pushing me along.
> 
> The tides of life bring clarity  
> for my tumbling mind.  
> I'll dive to see, set me free."
> 
> Edguy – Wash Away The Poison

”You’re freezing.”  
  
Another time I might have argued, but now I just let him drape his worn down jacket around me. It’s warm and too big for my still a bit skinny body. It smells like him, bares his scent in every thread and the familarity is overhwelming. The way he carefully holds me, one hand around my waist, so natural as if the time that passed since he left was but a day or two. His other hand under my hair, in a very loose grip around my neck, his thumb slowly stroking my tense tendon ever so lightly.  
  
I’m so tired of it all. The memories, the feelings that have taken over my body and mind, not letting me go. No one but two stupid cats has seen me weak enough to force their concern on me since he left. Such things I’ve left for the darkness, the pillow and two cats silent company to deal with. It’s not just the loneliness or the sense of betrayal. It’s realising just how much I need _him_ and no one else in my life and how irreplacable he is, despite my desperate determination to start a new life, every singe morning when I don’t wake up beside him. And now he’s holding me in his arms again, as if I weigh close to nothing.  
  
I don’t protest. I get heavy, but I don’t struggle at all. Just trembles. Once the anger has left me, I feel scared again and still my legs wrap themselves around his waist and he lifts me higher, just enough to not let our groins meet. One arm under my thighs, another around my lower back. He just holds me like that, determined in a way that doesn’t need any violent strenght added to it until my body stops shaking. Then, without a word, he starts walking.  
  
No one has ever carried me like this before, not even when I was a small child. My man carries me through the night. I don’t need to look where he’s heading, I close my eyes against his shoulder. _I’m so tired_. Of remembering, of watching over my back, of feeling. The pain, the guilt, the frustration that wakes up next to me, walks beside me and lay down to sleep with me, stealing my rest and his place by my side. He doesn’t talk to me, only walk calmy but with a clear destination in mind, not looking sideways or asking me if I’m alright. The night around us doesn’t scare me anymore, the darkness tucks me in as Billy carries whatever that’s left of me home again.  
  
Steps on wood, a careful bow under the door post. A turn and the locker and still he gives no sign of letting me down. He walks to the bed chamber and I get tense, but he meets my shiver with a firm hand, pulling me closer to him and then he sits down on the bed, my knees getting support from the mattress. I’m scared and he can feel it. His hands go still, just holding me in place, making sure I don’t loose balance. There’s nothing sexual in the embrace, it’s so clear that he just want to hold me. And I want him to hold me too. To take the watch, the control and silence the voice that tells me I can’t have this, can’t have him ever again.  
  
The fear is running through me, but doesn’t take any physical form that stops the embrace. The shame sneaks up on me, telling me it’s wrong to be hold like this, to want this touch but this time my mouth let it out by a whisper.  
  
”I’m scared.”  
”I know.”  
  
So calm, no surprise in his voice and he takes my hand, putting it to his speeding heart.  
  
”You feel it? I’m scared too.”  
  
He takes the blanket from the bed and drapes it around my shivering body. Then he leans back at the wall, with me still heavy against him. Still scared, still ashamed but every protest that’s not mine dies before they leave my mouth. I just hold on to him, my head resting on his shoulder, taking his scent down my lungs with every breath and the only sounds coming from me are dry, low whimpers and sighs. No words, no screams, no tears.  
  
Once the sun is rising again, we have to talk. I have to talk. Have to face the truth in the merciless sunlight, explain myself and listen. Hear words I don’t want to hear, and with the morning comes the risk of this peace of mind to vanish like a sweet dream.  
  
”Don’t let me fall asleep.”  
”Why?”  
”Don’t know how I’ll be, how I’ll feel waking up like this.”  
”You want to sleep alone?”  
”No. No!”  
  
Clinging to him like a child, the fear rising inside me by the thought of leaving his arms again and not knowing how to go back. To wake up and see a stranger beside me. Or wake up alone. The thought of that, an empty space beside me, drags another whimper from me and I dig my fingers in his skin.  
  
”Please, don’t let go of me, Billy. Don’t let me fall asleep, don’t leave!”  
”I wont. I’ll keep us awake, little darling… We’re not loosing each other again, Ben. Never again… And we’re making it through the night, I promise.”  
  
TBC


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Mother always said 'my son, do the noble thing...'  
> You have to finish what you started, no matter what,  
> Now, sit, watch and learn...  
> 'It's not how long you live, but what your morals say'  
> Cannot keep your part of the deal  
> So don't say a word... don't say a word"
> 
> -Don't Say A Word-  
> Sonata Arctica

_You can’t wipe out his memories with sweet words and soft hands. You have to talk about what happened… It’s bad enough for a man to be raped by having another man’s cock shoveled up his ass. Imagine a woman you hate, who manage to get you hard… And while riding you she keeps telling you all this disgusting, religious bullshit, convincing you you’re enjoying it all ’cause after all, you’re hard._  
  
You have to talk about what happened. Me too. But not now. We’re too tired, we need to rest. But I wont wrap us in a false sense of sweetness, even though it’s hard not too make stupid promises of love and safety I can’t keep for absolute certain. I imagine it’s safer for you this way. To sit in my lap, but with enough space behind you not to feel trapped by my arms or a wall. My hands loose around your hips, not pressing you closer or touching any skin. Have even tucked a pillow between our bellies. I’ve been without you for so long now, I know my body will betray me from the slightest touch once I get too relaxed or fall asleep. The last thing I want is to get hard and make you panic.  
  
”Are you comfortable, Ben? You’re not freezing?”  
”No, it’s alright. You?”  
”I’m just fine, sweetheart.”  
  
Am I? Compared to how I’ve felt since you were taken from me, I’d say I’m on one hell of a happiness spree right now. But in the same time, I’m scared shitless. Just like you, I imagine. The thought doesn’t strike me as new, it shouldn’t be, but I realise it is. If I don’t show you any weakness, how could I _not_ scare you? To never be weak, is to be inhuman. To not need you. Not loving you. Of course I’m not fine, but I’m not freezing and neither are you. After all, that’s what I was asking.  
  
To not fuck you really doesn’t require any enormous willpower. I’m bloody exceptional when it comes to keep my urges in control without bitching about it. In fact, I despise men who can’t keep it in their trousers. The very thought of the horror it would bring to pursuade you to have sex with me is enough to make a life long celibacy seem like a glorious alternative. But if having another man than you close made my blood rush and my cock twitch, you can imagine what holding you tight to me, feeling your scent, the familiar heat from your skin against my neck is doing to my body and why that fucking pillow between us is necessairy right now.  
  
You’re not sleeping, but you’re calm. I stroke your hair and your back, you nuzzle against the gap between my shirt and my collar bone. That’s just about too much for me and my throat tightens, I hear my mouth slip out a small sob and I’m crying from the touch I once was so used to feel I didn’t even consider how it would be to never feel it again. I’m afraid my tears will mess with you or make you want to leave my lap and I feel the urge to forego that, if possible.  
  
”I’m not sad, Ben. Just… overwhelmed. I’ve longed for you so much, I can’t really help that I’m…”  
”You can cry, Billy. Tears don’t scare me, I promise. As long as you’re not leaving… Don’t want to wake up alone again…”  
”Never! As long as you _want_ to let me in, I’m never leaving. I’ll wait, no matter how long it takes. Without you my life’s a fucking desert, Ben, and I’m just as scared as you to wake up alone.”  
  
It’s like a rusty, inert lock finally and surprisingly responding to a struggling key with a clicking sound. I doubt the change would be noticable to anyone but us, and there’s always a risk that I overrate the importance of it. But would it be so bad if I did? After all, isn’t it the foolish, desperate hope for a miracle that has kept us going? I’ve struggled so hard to be strong, but you need me to be weak as well. _And God, do I get weak beside this man…_  
  
My mother once told me that in order to be strong enough to fight for a greater cause, you need someone who’ll allow you to rest from the world. _Even the smallest, most ordinary moments in life can be turned into gold when sharing them with your spouse_ , she said. When you can close the door to the world and put off the mask we all have to bare around other people. Show yourself as you are and trust your spouse to accept, perhaps even love you. With all your flaws. Maybe that’s about the closest to an explanation of love and relationships I heard of in my home. The world and the books were things to explain, but emotions? They just were.  
  
So I hold you through the night, or is it really you who’re holding me? Ardour and Ember, who’re slowly getting used to me again – they actually look like they’re grumpy so I guess I have to beg them for forgiveness later – are cuddling together close to you. Or as close as they can get to your hip at last. As the morning finally comes, Ember seems to think about climbing to your lap, but hesitates in the middle of a step and gets back to her brother. I smile at her.  
  
”Sorry, Ember. Guess I’ll have to wait a little longer before you forgive me.”  
  
I don’t really whisper since you’re not asleep, and the words have you squeeze my hand a little. I squeeze it back.  
  
”They’ve grown quite a bit.”  
”Yeah. Steal food from your plate even when they know you’re looking.”  
”Proper pirates, just like Betsy.”  
”Betsy?”  
”The cat we had on the Walrus. She was supposed to be the ship’s cat, but she really was Randall’s.”  
  
I tell you about him, the man who fed me extra rations the first weeks on the Walrus when I was both ill, half mad and terribly skinny. And his cat Betsy who, according to Vane, actually swam away from the Walrus when they boarded her. You look amused when I say that.  
  
”You don’t think he just said that to not make you pissed? I mean, he did want you as his bosun _and_ his lover.”  
”As much as I appreciated Betsy for keeping the rats away and Randall in a good spirit, I actually was more pissed about Randall.”  
”Was it me, I’d probably forgive him for Randall, but not Betsy.”  
”If you’d been with us back then, all Randall would’ve been allowed to do is peeling potatos and Silver would never been permitted to join us in the first place.”  
”Well… as much as I’m sorry for your loss of Randall and Betsy, and how well aware I am of how much chaos Silver created, I’m grateful he joined you. He may be a horrible cook, but without his smooth mouth I’d still sit in that cage. Or worse.”  
”Hate to admit it, but you’re right. I owe that man a lot more than I wish I did.”  
”He’s not _always_ doing things only for himself.”  
”True. He’s, ironically, become more humane and in the same time more dangerous to the world.”  
”He really loves Flint, thou.”  
”That he does. And Flint loves him. The most dangerous matelotage I could ever imagine, actually.”  
”Well, since the English pretty much have given up the war, I guess they agree with you.”  
  
The first rays of the morning sun appear on the floor and we’re talking, but not about the things we have to deal with. But for now this is enough. Your voice is yours, the words are yours and the way you touch me is yours. _For a long time that was all I dreamed of and be still my heart, rest a little while before you ask for more… Easy with the words, easy with the feelings, the touches. If the silence isn’t uncomfortable, then rest and don’t say a word._  
  
TBC


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peeping Charles and John...

He’s looking through the window and sighs from relief at the sight. Two men are sitting on the bed and they’re both alive. The silent watch is over for now and Vane’s heart, far bigger than Eleanor, Blackbeard or any of his old lovers ever realised, is finally calming down. Hell would’ve frozen to ice before he left his former lover unguarded again.  
  
The sight doesn’t fill his heart with jealousy or regret. A small, very small sting of sadness, perhaps. After all, Charles Vane has always been bloody romantic and to see Billy holding his man like that, seeing the way he’s stroking Ben’s back and burying his nose in his neck is just… beautiful.  
  
”Good morning.”  
  
He turns around and sees John Silver. For once, he doesn’t appear smug to Charles, but honestly concerned and what little irritation his presence usually cuases, melts away.  
  
”Good morning.”  
”I assume everything’s calm?”  
”Has been calm all night.”  
”And now?”  
  
Charles steps away from the window a points at it.  
  
”See for yourself.”  
”Well, I’ll be darned… Guess miracles do happen.”  
  
The cynical quartermaster, who actually spend most of his time these days reading and scheaming (thou to be fair, he scheamed a lot before as well) against the English, which really didn’t make him live up to the quartermaster title anymore, seemed quite surprised and – to Charles’ honest surprise – genuinly relieved. The surprise must’ve been visible, judging from Silver’s rosed eyebrows. The one-legged man snickered.  
  
”I admit I was surprised by the extent of your care for Billy, but it seems like others care can surprise you as well.”  
”It’s no fucking competition.”  
”Who said it was?”  
  
Charles isn’t interrested to continue this conversation. Instead he turns his gaze back to the couple on the bed.  
  
”Were you ever in love?”  
”What?”  
”You and Billy.”  
”I see. You think I stand here looking at them out of jealousy?”  
”You said it, not me. I would’ve said out of love, but whatever you think suits best.”  
  
Charles expression goes from irritation to indifference.  
  
”This isn’t about what I think or don’t about you, Silver, but if you want me to talk about Billy, here you go: We were lovers a long time ago, but it wasn’t that kind of love between us. That man is a fucking adonis in bed, but if I had to live with him, I’d go berserk within a week and Billy’d probably try till kill me before that. What’s between him and Ben has always been something else and I’ve never been jealous. But I love Billy as a friend, I love him very much and that’s no secret. Not even to Ben. So I don’t really give a shit about how this looks to you, as long as we don’t get another blood vessel here again.”  
”To be honest, I really doubt that, Vane. Can’t believe I’m saying this, but it’s a quite beautiful view.”  
  
The softness in John’s voice somehow wipes all the smugness away. And most of Charles’ indifference as well. The two men on the bed both look very tired, but also peaceful. Charles smiles softly.  
  
”It is. It’s very beautiful.”  
”Just to be clear, you’re killing me if I ever tell someone you said that?”  
”Of course.”  
”Good. It’s so refreshing with people that never change.”  
  
TBC


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ”Looking at it now, maybe she thought I wanted to rub it in her face. But that wasn’t my intention at all. I was just so damn happy everytime I was reminded of just how many women who wanted what I had, and how lucky I was. I didn’t get jealous when they looked at you, how could I be jealous when you only had eyes for me…”

”The beginning?”  
  
The night is over and two men are sitting by the breakfast table. For a good more than half an hour, they’ve chewed their buttered bread and boiled eggs as slow as possible, taking small sips of the tea and refilling their cups long after they’ve had enough. All to prolong the time before they have to talk. And there is only so much time you can do that before the silence feels more uncomfortable than the avoided subject. So, the taller man ask the shorter man for the one thing he’s been wondering about the whole time. How much does he remember?  
  
”Just go from the beginning. The day they took you. Take your time, it doesn’t matter if you don’t remember everyting.”  
”What if I don’t want to share it all…”  
  
The shorter man rubs the tea cup in a nervous way. The taller man takes his hand and strokes it softly.  
  
”That’s alright, Ben. I wont tell you not to be afraid, ’cause that wont make it less scary, if I know you right. But it’s _safe_ to talk about it.”  
  
Fingers entwined again, as they should be and the shorter man fixes his gaze on the taller man’s hand. He takes a deep breath.  
  
”This can… take some time.”  
”We have all the time in the world.”  
”And I’m not sure how to begin either. Is it alright if you… don’t speak for a while? It’s hard to think about what I should say if you… you know, fill my head at the same time. I’m sorry, that came out wrong…”  
”You just want to talk until you feel you’ve said what you need to say?”  
”Yeah…”  
”Then I’ll just listen from now on, until you say I can speak. Even if you’re not saying anything.”  
”And I’m not sure I can stand you looking too much. In my eyes. Not while I speak… at least.”  
  
The taller man just nods and squeezes the shorter man’s hand in reassurance before he lowers his gaze. Then the minutes pass slowly. The silence is only broke by the sounds from outside the house, the purring from two sleepy cats, the crackling sound from the small cooking fire.  
  
”I thought we were out of cinnamon that day. That I’d used the last of it the week before. And then, when I was looking for the lemon tea, I discovered a small leather purse that was stucked behind some of the tea jars. It was just enough for buns. I had no plans to bake at all, but then I thought I’d surprise you. And to be honest, I _really_ wanted an excuse not to work with the garden that day.”  
  
The shorter man breathes a long time, but slowly, calmed by the firm grip from the taller man’s loving hands, closing around him like a safe nest.    
  
”I made the buns and when I was done, it was still quite early so I found out another excuse to avoid the garden. Max’s girls love my buns and… And then there was that girl that was quite new. I didn’t like her, but I didn’t dislike her either. I mean, I didn’t know her, I’d only noticed how she looked at _you_ when we had some arrend to Max. At first it made me proud. It sounds stupid, I guess, but I’m not half as oblivious as you are to how women, and some men, are looking at you. Sometimes it felt good to just walk with you, knowing you were mine, that you hardly even looked at anyone else…”  
  
He swallows.  
  
”Looking at it now, maybe she thought I wanted to rub it in her face. But that wasn’t my intention at all. I was just so damn happy everytime I was reminded of just how many women who wanted what I had, and how lucky I was. I didn’t get jealous when they looked at you, how could I be jealous when you only had eyes for me…”  
  
The taller man fights back the tears burning under his eyelids and the shorter man continues.  
  
”I remember leaving the tavern, but I’m not sure if _she_ followed. I didn’t think I needed to look behind me, hadn’t been doing that for weeks. I mean, everyone either knew I was yours, or that I was a part of Flint’s crew and you have to be bloody stupid to attack someone who has the protection of Billy Bones, Max, James Flint and Long John Silver. Oh, and Charles Vane, but I didn’t thought about him at the time. My point is, from the moment it’s clear to anyone, and I literally mean _anyone_ on this island, that I belong to you, they don’t mess with me. So, stupid as it may sound now, I felt about as safe as possible that night.”  
  
_Not stupid_ , the taller man thinks. A lot of men have used his name throughout the years in order to get rid of an attacker. Billy Bones reputation isn’t the one of a loving husband, but of a very strong, fast and skilled killer you _really_ don’t want to pick a fight with. Or with someone who has his protection. And if Billy Bones is ready to kill for a crew member, what wouldn’t he do to the one hurting his lover… Yes, even in the light of what happened to him, the shorter man’s reasoning makes perfect sense to the taller man. You have to be really, really drunk, new to Nassau or utterly insane to attack Ben Gunn.  
  
The taller man pulls their entwined hands to him, leans over and covers the shorter man’s wrists with teary kisses. The man who was so certain of his protection, of his love that he went from hiding behind Billy’s back from the sound of a crowd, to calmly walk alone through Nassau by nightfall… And the taller man wishes he could resurrect the man and woman a thousand times to give them another agonizing death a thousand times again. One death simply isn’t punishment enough for what they did to his man, who now looks him in the eyes for the first time in over an hour.

”The last thing I remember from that night, is the steps. They were so light, just like a woman’s… And thinking about it, if I hadn’t felt so… _damn safe_ , maybe I’d turned around before she knocked me out.”  
  
TBC


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Feelings... lots of feelings.

It sickens me. To talk about it. A part of me wants nothing but begging him not to ask this of me. To tell him I don’t remember, that it’s better for us never to bring it up again. But I know this man well enough to realise he’ll never stop wonder, never get rid of that confused, sad and frustrated glimpse in the eyes that remind us both we’re still not one. If I truly want to live the rest of my life with this man, the one that saved me not once but twice, I owe him the truth. And to be honest, I doubt I’ll be able to forget it even if we pretend it never happened.  
  
But I’m too tired to talk right now. Need a little break, but not from him. I need him close, as close as possible, as if he can prevent my sanity from leaving simply by holding me.  
  
”Can we rest a little?”  
”Of course, sweetheart.”  
  
It takes a lot of effort to go through these memories and I’m very grateful Billy understands that I can’t do it all in one go. I simply lack the strength. And to make it worse, this is far, far away from the most horrible ones. I feel sick. I leave the chair and reach the basin just in time to get rid of the breakfast, while he holds me. The calm breathing tells me he’s prepared for this. Me feeling sick, throw up or other things. How I start to tremble and chatter my teeth. _This_ doesn’t scare him. Not as long as he’s allowed to help. It’s comforting and in the same time fucking terrifying.  
  
”You want something to get rid of the taste, love? Tea? Or honey?”  
”Some… honey, maybe. In the tea.”  
  
_Sucking honey from my husbands finger…_ God, if there are moments I’d rather remember, the time when he found out I liked honey is quite high on the list. It’s a memory I’ve teased him about a couple of times. He came back from Max one night, only a couple of days after we moved in together. He looked a bit sly, which was odd to begin with, and kept something hidden behind his back. _I have something for you I think you might like. Not sure thou…_ I asked him what it was and he told me, still having that sly smile on his face, to close my eyes and open my mouth.  
  
I honestly don’t know if he remembers that, or if he thinks about it now, but I remember very clear the effect my… not very _chaste_ way of sucking that delicious honey from his finger had. How big his eyes went, how he swallowed hard, blushed and had his lips just a little bit too parted. It wasn’t long before he had me beneath him and when we almost tipped the pot and I mumbled _the honey…_ _be careful_ , he gave me the the deepest kiss I’d ever had in my life. When we finally broke, he said: _I’ll ransack the whole island to get you more of that. I’ll start a fucking war against the bees if I have to…_ And that was the moment I found out, or more correct: _really understood_ , just how much he desired me.  
  
Now he puts a small amount on a spoon in my cup and looks a bit confused.  
  
”What are you thinking about, Ben?”  
”Honey, actually. On fingers…”  
”Oh…”  
  
He remembers too. Blushes as he circles the spoon to spread the sweet memory in the tea. It’s too early to give voice to it, we both know that. But it’s there. It’s not forgotten and the taste of bad memories is wiped out with herbs and honey, for a little while at least.  
  
The man I called husband before anyone of us actually proposed or even got officially betrothed… _God, I’m so tired_ , _but now the bad taste is gone at least. But the world is a bit… blurry and so are my thoughts…_  
  
”Hey, easy there, sweetheart! You’re falling asleep in the tea.”  
”It… certainly seems like it, yeah…”  
  
He laughs. Quiet, but it’s a laugh alright and I’m too tired not to join. When he realises I’m close to slide down on the floor again, he quickly takes me in his arms, carries me to bed and puts me down so gently. Every movement, every touch is so careful, so full of love that the contrast between his hands and my memories becomes too strong and I start to cry.  
  
”You’re exhausted, my love. Come, let me hold you.”  
  
Holds, carries, kisses me, wipe my tears away. Whispers to me I’m safe, that it was brave of me to talk earlier and he’s proud of me.  
  
”You’re my hero, Ben. My survivor, my fighter… You’re so much stronger than you think. So proud of you, so proud and happy to be yours…”  
”Billy, I don’t deserve this. You’re just too nice to me…”  
”Look at me.”  
  
His hand goes under my chin and he turns my head so that we face each other, our nosetips touches, his eyes looking right inside me.  
  
”Ben Gunn, even if you had… I don’t know, slayed every member of my crew, found my parents grave and pissed on it or left me to the English to be fucking hanged I’d love you until I’m six feet under and then still love you in hell. Whatever that’s left of you, _every little piece of you_ is the only treasure I value. You’re my love, my life, my sun in the morning and my star in the night. When I left… there wasn’t a night when I didn’t cry myself to sleep, thinking of you. You’re the first person I’ve even _dared_ to wish for a proper home with. Hell, _you’re_ my home! If you loose your legs, I’ll carry you for the rest of your life and if I loose my eyes I’d rely on no one but you to guide my every step until we’re both too old and sick to move. I don’t want another man, a wife or a woman of any sort. I don’t want children, I don’t wish to visit another brothel, make another raid or fight another holy war. I’ve never wanted anything or anyone as much as I want you. There is no _too nice_ when it comes to you, my incredibly sweet, beautiful and breathtaking man that I want nothing more than to call husband in every way. As you see, I can even make a complete babbling fool out of myself in front of you and that, Ben Gunn, is something that’s _never_ happened before even when I’ve been high on rum and opium combined.”  
  
The man I called husband, with the ring attached on the bracelet. I bare the twin around my left wrist in a leather band. It’s the only answer to what he called babbling, the answer I know so well I’d given him if I hadn’t been aducted and had my mind twisted. It’s too early, but the part of my heart that I slowly recognize as his, is screaming the _yes_ , the _I do_ so loud, drowning every remaining protest and fear I almost believe he can hear it. And in lost for words, I just kiss him. Not a soft, shallow kiss, but a deep, rapturous one, filled with all the hunger and longing I’ve bared since I was taken from his arms.  
  
  
TBC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... thewalruscaptain and laurapetri, did this bring you a little comfort? <3


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ”What if I never heal? What if I’m not strong enough?”  
> ”Never is a very long time."

It’s just a kiss. The taller man, still a bit shocked from his own stream of words, has been kissed lots of times by the shorter man. From the slightest brush of lips against his neck, to a breathtaking dance with swirling tongues, waking up the urge for more. This kiss is of the latter kind. A kiss he hasn’t had in months and it’s boiling his blood, making him dizzy with longing, intoxicated with memories of sweet lovemaking and the fear is walking steady next to all of them.  
  
The shorter man is trembling, his shirt and hair in disorder, lips shivering as he forces himself to part from the taller man, catching breath for a moment before he leans down again, moaning in the other man’s mouth. They’re both hard, hips pushing for friction and the taller man gives a sharp cry when lips are sucking marks on his collarbone.  
  
It’s just a kiss repeating itself in all kind of forms and the two men are scared to death. To go too far, or not far enough. And the exhaustion saves them. A day and night without sleep and months of abstinence is not a good combination for lovemaking and they know it. The shorter man sucks another bruise on the taller man’s chest and then leans back with a confused look on his face.  
  
”Billy?”  
”Yeah?”  
”Did you… was that a proposal earlier?”  
”I… it kind of sounded like one, right?”  
”It kind of did.”  
”Oh. It wasn’t quite how I’d imagined to do that… Sorry.”

The laugh is so familiar. Exhausted, bright and the most beautiful sound the taller man has heard in months.  
  
”I kind of do.”  
”Huh?”  
”If you kind of propose to me, I kind of say yes.”  
  
The shorter man is smiling. A smile that reaches the oh so blue eyes and the taller man lays his hand against his cheek.  
  
”You… want to marry me? For real? I mean I realise it was a bit…”  
”Billy, I know I’m not quite myself yet. Not in every way and it will be a hell to go through those memories. But I know this much: if I’d come home that night and you’d proposed to me, I would’ve said _yes_ before you even finished the question.”  
  
He swallows, but keeps smiling.  
  
”If it’s… if you’re alright with me still being shattered, with not knowing when I’ll be myself in full again and if you think you can take the risk of being pushed away when I don’t know how I feel… Knowing I want to be yours even when I can’t get my mind or body to show it… Can you take that?”  
”You’re asking me to be patient and not forget you’re still not healed? Not to push you to do something you don’t want and understand if you can’t always predict how you will react? To keep in mind that your feelings, the memories, could be working against you and push me away?”  
  
The taller man’s words are making the shorter man stunned. The tension is slowly melting from his muscles and he’s opening and closing his mouth, trying to answer but he has no words. He doesn’t need them. The taller man rises to his elbows, putting one hand in the mattress for support and lays the other around the shorter man’s shoulders.  
  
”Ben.”  
”Yes?”  
”Trust me: I can wait. I say yes to whatever time necessairy for you to heal. I’ll never try to pursuade you, to use promises or threats to push you forward. I’m not asking the future you to be my spouse, but the one you are now. That’s all we know, Ben. What we are now and what we’ve been before. The future is something neither of us know about.”  
”What if I never heal? What if I’m not strong enough?”  
”Never is a very long time, my love and trust me, you’re strong. Don’t fool yourself into believing I’m stronger than you, ’cause that’s simply not true. We’ve lived different lives, faced different things and gone through different kind of shit.”  
  
The taller man entagles his fingers in the shorter man’s hair and kisses his forehead.  
  
”I survived a press ganging, you survived the plague. I survived the damn navy and we both survived a storm, marooners, mad captains and a fucking war. We’ve both been abducted, beaten, starved and left alone. We’ve both been raped… And we’ve not only survived, but made us a life of our own chosing. If we’ve walked through that fucking pile of shit without end up dead, drinking ourselves half mad or turn into monsters, I’m quite sure we’re strong enough to handle some abstinence.”  
  
The shorter man can feel the pulse beating from the taller man. His own as well and the taller man wraps his arms around him, foreheads pressing against each other. The shorter man’s breath is slowly calmed and his lips are searching for the taller man’s ear.  
  
”You know what…”  
”Yeah?”  
”I think you’ll make a fucking glorious husband, Billy Bones.”  
  
TBC


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> About the freedom of boundaries...

At first, your idea sounds ridiculous. I mean, two grown men living together in the most free place two former pirates – and still very much sodomites – could find among land conquered by humans, are the very opposite to living by any rules. But, as you point out, the life in a pirate crew is hardly an anarchy. Rules and restrictions doesn’t necessairly mean a bad thing, and of course I know that, I’ve been a fucking bosun, quartermaster and first mate, for fucks sake.  
  
But the idea of us, me and my husband to be, to make up rules we didn’t need before all this is… if not repulsive, so at least not very appealing and you have to make a really good explanation if I’m to consider it at all. You know this and I know I can’t rush you in any way. Stupid or not, I have to hear you out and sit down on the bed, patting beside me. The cats jump up before you sit down and they remain between us while I wait for you to explain. I pet Ember, who’s quite cuddly when she wants.  
  
”First of all: I wouldn’t make this suggestion if I hadn’t been taken. Just so we’re clear about that.”  
”Go on.”  
  
I don’t want to give to long answers. You need to trust your own voice and trust me to listen. That’s why I don’t say how ridiculous the thought of rules for our life together sounds.  
  
”Only this day, I’ve went from kissing to trying to bite you, and then I threw up dinner, felt just fine enough to chop some wood only to start crying… It’s exhausting.”  
”I know it is.”  
”I never know from one day to another how I’ll feel. If I can eat, if I’ll get enough sleep or if I can have you close. It’s… too unpredictable.”  
  
I just nod. Nothing strange about that. It’s both exhausting and troubling to constantly be on your guard. Especially when the one to be guarded is you.  
  
”When I say I want rules, Billy, I really mean more predictability. And not forever, only as long as I need to get well.”  
”You think it would help you?”  
”Yeah, I realise it doesn’t sound very funny, living like some kind of courting couple in England, but you know… not having any boundaries except our feelings, especially since _my_ feelings are still really fucked sometimes, is really more than I think I can handle at the moment.”  
”You mean to not get you, like overwhelmed?”  
”Or shitscared.”  
  
You sigh.  
  
”Look, Billy, it really helps a lot to talk about what happened, but I get so fucking tired from it. And then we’re lying next to each other and I love it, but I can’t… _feel_ when it’s too much. Fuck, this just sounds stupid…”  
”No, not at all. Think I’ll get it, or a little of it at least. You shift too quickly, is that what you mean?”  
”Yeah, kind of. And I’m never really prepared.”  
”So if we decide for some limits, or rules, regardless of how you feel at the moment, you think it might help you to… I don’t know… get better?”  
”And feel safer.”  
  
Your idea just went from stupid to fucking genious. Boring as hell, but genious. There’s only one problem.  
  
”I’m all for you to decide all by yourself when it comes to your body, Ben, as I _really_ hope you know. But we don’t need any special rules for that, so I must ask if there’s anything I’m missing here?”  
  
You bite your lip.  
  
”It’s not just about that, Billy. Of course I want to feel I have as much freedom as you or any other man in Nassau, but as long as I’m afraid to do what a free man can do here, I’m really not free. Right?”  
”That’s… true, yes. But I’m not sure how rules that would restrict you could give you freedom. What am I missing, Ben?”  
”You remember the first days in Nassau? When I sort of followed you around like a shadow.”  
”Of course I remember.”  
”You didn’t tell me what to do or anything. I just, sort of adjusted to you and that probably saved me from taking to the bottle.”  
”But I never made decisions for you.”  
”You didn’t have to. It felt natural to follow you, to do what you did and not having to make a lot of decisions or talk all the time. It helped a lot.”  
”Oh… You mean like a routine, that I sort of decide for you?”  
”Yes. And I know how stupid it sounds…”  
”It’s fucking brilliant, actually.”  
  
And not just for you, I realise. It could spare me some of the strenght it takes to constant look for changes and try to understand where you draw the line. You smile a little.  
  
”I hope so, ’cause if it is, if this actually works, I might start to relax enough to let go of that woman for good and trust you for real again. And then I hope you still want to marry me.”  
  
Your smile bare a small trace of the mischievous man who used to wake me up with his mouth around my cock, laughing quietly at my surprise and choked sounds of pleasure. I give you a long, wet kiss.  
  
”Have I ever told you, what a perfectly cunning and adorable man you are, Ben Gunn?”  
”Once or twice… But I wont mind if you remind me.”  
  
TBC


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Be careful what you wish for :)

I could slap myself for not understanding this. For fucks sake, I was saved by a crew who put me to lighter work as soon as I showed the first sign of restlessness. I should’ve known how difficult it would be for you to return to this life with too much time to think and too many feelings and thoughts running wild trough that shattered mind of yours… And I know all too well how horrifying it can be to get trapped inside your mind. If it helped, I would knock my own thick head against the wall to make it work properly.  
  
Just as much as the rest, the food and the kindness on the Walrus, it was the routine and rules that kept me off the insanity. Other men, more capable than me, to tell me what to do and when. Keep my mind occupied enough to stop the grief and horror from taking over. If anyone had asked me what I wanted back then, I’d probably freaked out. The routine was the first reliable thing I dared to trust, that offered the first sense of safety before I let anyone near.  
  
And I’ve followed orders both with and without question, have handed them out and been in charge over at least fortyfive other men, many of them older than me. But it’s not in my nature to be in charge over _one_ man, and certainly not _my_ man. But when I finally kept my mouth shut and listened to you, really listened without letting my worry take over, it all became clear. You don’t want me to treat you like some wife, forced to obey her husband by law – the very thought of _my_ mother obeying _anyone_ is fucking preposterous – so I guess the ”holy law” of marital obedience is another thing my dear parents never thought it fit to teach me.  
  
But this is really not about obedience. It’s about support. If you don’t feel safe with the man you’re betrothed to, if you don’t know how he’ll act when you need his protection because you don’t trust yourself, there really isn’t much of a marriage to speak of. And when I think about it, it’s a way of spitting on the woman who tortured you for giving in to any kind of submissiveness in the first place. But the relationship between us also began with protection. Comfort too, of course, but the urge to keep you safe is so strong in me. I want you to know you can always crash in my arms when you’re afraid, weak or simply too tired to carry on. Isn’t that what being married is all about? If you function just fine by your own, why the hell share your home, bread and bed with someone?  
  
So if rules and boundaries are what you need right now, my love, you’ll have them. And one of them will be a husbands right to indulge you. _A lot._  
  
TBC


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here you go, thewalruscaptain: your psycho pirate husbands ;)

”Rules, you say?”  
”That’s something new, right?”  
  
Max smiled at his perplexed face and James looked _far_ too interrested in this, John thought. He glared at his husband, who sat in his favourite chair by the fire and sipped on some wine.  
  
”Don’t even _think_ about it, James.”  
”What have I done to deserve such suspicion from you, dear husband?”  
”I _know_ you!”  
”You are the one who told me. There must be some benefit to such arrangement, otherwise I doubt they would have it. And speaking of that. How exactly did you come to know about this, John?”  
”I was… keeping watch.”  
”You mean spying.”  
”Oh, shut up, Max! And by the way, do we really need to keep guard over Ben anymore?”  
  
James looked at Max.  
  
”What do you think? From what I’ve seen and heard, they’re both holding up quite good.”  
”I think it’s maybe a bit too early to let go entirely, but we could decrease the watch a bit, at least during daytime.”  
  
John gave a bitter laugh.  
  
”Poor bastards. Being chaperoned by us.”  
”Would you rather let people with looser tongues to do it, husband? At least you, me, Max, Vane and Idelle care about them.”  
  
James frowned and looked sharply at his husband.  
  
”You _do_ care about Billy and Ben, right?”  
”The fuck is this? Some kind of questioning? Am I suspected of a crime?”  
”You boys want any more wine, or are you gonna start a fight?”  
  
Max took the carafe and James quickly hold up his cup to be refilled and then turned to John.  
  
”Dear husband, would you mind to get some of the cake?”  
  
The curlyheaded man went up and snorted before he left the small salon. When you could hear sounds from the larder, James grabbed Max in the arm and whispered:  
  
”Could you find out more about this ’obedience thing’? John doesn’t realise it yet, but trust me, it would be really good for him with some boundaries.”  
”Why, Captain Flint… I never thought about you as the adventurous kind in that area.”  
”Oh, forget about it then!”  
”Now don’t be grumpy, my love. Max will help you, but I presume it’s really not the Billy and Ben style of obedience you’re after?”  
”I don’t know! You’re the expert here.”  
”Oh, _mon Dieu_ … Look, James, forget about Billy and Ben. Trust me, that’s not what you’re after and I believe neither of them want us to talk about their private matters.”  
”Of course not. But boundaries… of the _other_ kind…”  
”You mean the more adventurous and naughty kind, Captain?”  
  
James blushed and Max gave a teasing laughter.  
  
”I see… Well, don’t you worry, Captain. Just let Max think about it and then you could come by the inn in a day or two. Then we’ll see if Max have some secrets to share.”  
”Secrets? What secrets?”  
  
A certain curlyheaded man, carrying a tray with lemon cake, looked suspiciously at his husband and the ruler of Nassau. Max smiled.  
  
”Good, you’re back. Now I don’t have to tell it twice. I just recently discovered that Charles Vane seem to have gotten himself a new bosun and you won’t believe who it is.”  
”Don’t tell me it’s Billy. Because if Vane is trying to…”  
”Oh, don’t be silly, John! Make a better guess.”  
”Betsy the cat?”  
”Close.”  
”Anne Bonny.”  
”Correct.”  
  
John just shook his head.  
  
”You two really choose the most boring subjects to discuss when I’m not around.”  
  
TBC


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And the other man obeys...

In a small house in Nassau, a little bit off from the crowded places, a man obeys his husband to be with a smile on his lips. Looking from the outside, it really isn’t any difference from before. They’re both working, sometimes with the same thing, sometimes with separate duties. Only that one of them asks the other one about everything. _What do you want for supper? Can we go for a walk? Is it alright if I visit Max? Will you read to me tonight?_ And the man answers. _Whatever you want to make, sweetheart. Not right now, my love. Just until sunset. Of course I will. Just pick a book, darling…_  
  
One man makes decisions. _It’s time for bed, love. You’ll do the garden today. Come and sit with me, darling. I’ll comb you hair tonight, it’s all messy…_ And the other man obeys. Slowly, as the days pass, the man who obeys relaxes. His neck goes a little softer, the tension in his muscles isn’t causing him quite as much pain anymore. He learns to have the other man’s hands in his hair again, to recognize his steps behind him without turning around to be sure. _You’re safe with me, my love. My sweet, beautiful man…_  
  
The man who’s in charge learns how hard it is to be that person, to know another human is relying on you, trusting you to know what’s best for him. This is not forever, he thinks as he firmly takes the other man in his arms and holds him through a small but still exhausting fit. _Trust me, husband, it’ll pass sooner if I hold you. Just trust me, as you once did… You don’t need to know anything more than this right now: You can trust me._  
  
Trust the man not to do him any harm, not to force him to any unwanted intimacy as he holds him in his arms. The man who obeys is fighting towards the panic telling him the other man could cause him pain, silently crying in the dark… _Are you crying? No, don’t turn away, sweetheart. Come here, look at me. See? It’s me, it’s alright, little darling. No one can hurt you here, I’ll protect you and soon you’ll go back to sleep again. Your memories are playing tricks on you, love, but that’s all they are… memories and ghosts and I aint afraid of no ghosts._  
  
And it’s working. The man who’s in charge can feel how the tense neck behind the golden hair goes soft against his chest, not from one day to another, but step by step. How a troubled head searches for comfort in his lap, needing the hands as a strong shelter around it and then, after a while, can rise again with a little more ease. Whenever, literally whenever the man who obeys isn’t sure of how to get through the day or night, the man who’s in charge is there, firm and strong. _Do you want some ale? Can you do some stitches in my shirt? I can see you’re freezing, so get your blanket, honey bee. I don’t want you to catch a cold… You look tired, husband. I think you should rest a little and take the cats with you._  
  
The hardest parts of the agreement is still ahead. The first weeks the man who’s in charge, makes the decision not to ask about the abduction. Not until they see how this way of life will turn out. And the man who obeys just… obeys. Not questioning, not protesting, not anything but nodding. _Are you really comfortable with this, Ben? Yes, Billy. I want you to decide… I need you to carry me through this._  
  
Yes, it’s working. The nightmares, the insomnia, the nausea and the tremors are still there, but not as many and the time they’re going on is decreasing. Sometimes the sound of the other man’s voice or the pressure of his embrace is enough to prevent a fit. When the man who obeys is crying and panting in anxiety, on the boarder to the attack that will rip his world to pieces again, it sometimes feels like the strong, broad arms really are shutting the door around him, preventing him from going insane from the memories and fear. And he can’t fight both nightmares, memories and his husband at the same time, so eventually the fear and the feeling of being torn apart inside out have to give up. They’re still there, but not in charge anymore. Not even in the darkness.  
  
TBC


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You were told that it was shameful. And part of you believed it."
> 
> Miranda Barlow

I would lie to myself if I said it was easy. There are even moments when I hate it. Truly hate it. When it feels like I’ve just got a new cage. And I know he knows how scared I am for him to go further than I can handle. But he never does. Not really. There are parts of me that Billy can read like an open book and the parts not so open he just, I don’t know… read with extreme patience. My body and mind should’ve known better than go to war against a man with a willpower like Billy Bones’.  
  
In a way the fits are just as horrible, the shame just as present and my thoughts just as irratic as before. My protests and cries have not gone away at all, but now I don’t have to fight any of it alone. The worst parts are the talks and if it wasn’t so clear to me that he doesn’t feel good about them either, about his role in them, I believe I would’ve broken the deal. To drag me through the memories of _her_ hands, _his_ hands and force me to say her name. _Elaine_. I ’ve never taken that name in my mouth, I’ve refused to acknowledge her by giving her a name in my thoughts. But she’s never been nameless and Billy commands me to say the name. Again and again.  
  
The man’s name is somehow more difficult to remember. I’m trying, but I really can’t seem to recall Elaine speaking it out loud in front of me. So Billy tells me. _Matthew_. For a second I get confused. How does he know? But of course he does. The bones are still very much hanging on the square, yet I’ve never read the names, just watched the bodies have less and less meat left and more bones visible. My husband to be asks me to describe them. Not the bodies, but what I saw of them in the darkness.  
  
And as long as Billy holds me tight, I can slowly force myself to yield, to describe the fear, the pain and the shame. When I can’t find words, he asks questions to keep me going and when the shame is so strong I fear I will turn a looney for real, he tells me to stop talking, rocking my trembling body to make me feel safe again. He’s kissing my hair, my face that’s all sweaty and teary and reminds me with his soft and warm voice:  
  
”You’re safe now, my love. You’ve nothing to be ashamed of, nothing you have to ask me to forgive you. On the contrary, you’re brave, Ben. You had to fight two extremely dangerous and crazy people all alone in the darkness, when you were bound and blinded, not knowing where you were or who they were and still you kept your head clear. That’s more than many men would’ve managed in that situation.”  
”But she made me fuck her!”  
”No, Ben. Listen to me now. Rape isn’t fucking and _you_ didn’t do anything. No, don’t answer me yet. I want to ask you some questions. Alright?”  
”Alright…”  
”You had a blindfold on, right?”  
”Yes.”  
”And your hands were bound?”  
”Yes.”  
”And you didn’t know where you were or who your abducters were?”  
”No.”  
”Then your statement doesn’t make any sense, my love.”  
”You’re saying I’m lying?”  
”No, but you’ve convinced yourself that just because your cock was hard, you somehow let that woman rape you. That you allowed it and that’s just not true. And only a very inexperienced woman would not know you can get hard without being horny.”  
”How do you know she was inexperienced?”  
”I asked her.”  
”How do you know she wasn’t lying.”  
”Because I held a knife between her legs.”  
”Billy!”  
  
I’m horrified. Despite what that woman did to me, what she took from me, the thought of a _knife_ in… I must look as upset as I feel, but Billy calms me.  
  
”I didn’t cut her _there_ , Ben, I just hold the knife there to get her to speak. It was very effective, but I didn’t do any harm to her between her legs. Or his. Not that I didn’t want to, but I’m a killer, not a rapist. She told me you were _her first_ , and she even managed to make it sound like you were _lucky_. So first I shaved her head and then I cut ’rapist’ all over her body, until there was no skin left to cut but her pussy. And I took my time. She was still alive when I was done. And believe me, she had no lies left inside her. Neither did he, when I did the same to him.”  
  
_A spouse for a spouse. A life for a life. May God have mercy on you, for I have not._ When I manage to speak, I’m surprised by how calm I am.  
  
”Did… did they show any regret?”  
”No. That’s why I kept them alive for so long. And they could never explain why they chose you.”  
  
I swallow.  
  
”But I know why.”  
  
Somehow I’ve shrunk in his arms during this conversation. I hide my face in my hands, keep my knees tight to my chest, as if I could literally make myself smaller. Billy doesn’t force me to look up, he lets me hide in the nest of his body when the sweat breaks out all over me, the calm leaves me and I get caught in the horrors of the most shameful parts of my memory.  
  
”She wanted _you_ , Billy. She was obsessed by _you_ and I stood in her way, so she decided to punish us both by…. She, they both held sermons to me, telling me how disgusting I was, how I stopped you from having a woman, that as soon as you knew I was gone, you’d be free to… have _love_. And in the end I… I _believed_ her, Billy! I believed her…”  
  
TBC


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ”You became a deadly enemy to the civilized world and almost managed to get your whole crew killed for the mere memory of a man you loved, because your love was punished. And then you started a fucking war against England for the love you had for a woman. Yeah, I somehow think you understand how shame can ruin a life…”

Blunt and savage as he is, Charles has always been the one man in his life Billy always trust to tell the truth. Maybe not the whole truth, but that man will never lie without a damn good reason, or understand how another man’s or woman’s lies can change you. Charles Vane doesn’t question himself, his nature or his motives. He feels no obligation to excuse his actions. Explain, yes, but excuse? No way. He simply doesn’t have it in him to manipulate or hide his true self, so for once Billy can’t go to his old lover for support.  
  
Some men Billy’s been with, especially men with a very manly appearance, more than often had a problem with submission of any kind. They could never truly relax with a man who could match them in strenght and height. But Charles gave in. Happily and with all he had. He felt no shame, it was as if he’d never heard of it, how you could feel guilt for an urge or fall into depths of self accusation for something you couldn’t prevent. The concept of shame is just not in his nature, and that’s why Billy is sitting by the fire at his first captain’s place, telling him parts of what Ben told him. James, or Captain Flint as he’ll always be to Billy, listen quietly to his former first mates story. John is, thank God, not at home. When Billy’s finished, James scratches his beard.  
  
”First, Billy, I have to ask why you’re not talking to Vane about this?”  
”Charles cares, but he wont understand.”  
”And you think I will?”  
”You became a deadly enemy to the civilized world and almost managed to get your whole crew killed for the mere _memory_ of a man you loved, because your love was punished. And then you started a fucking war against England for the love you had for a woman. Yeah, I somehow think you understand how shame can ruin a life…”  
”And they call me and Silver the most dangerous men on this island… Vane was right. I’ve always underestimated you, Billy.”  
”Guess I owe you thanks for that. Doubt I’d still draw breath if you’d not believed me to be more stupid and less dangerous than I am. Or as Rackham would have put it: to be underestimated is an incredible gift.”  
”Why did you never tell me about Thomas? I mean, you must’ve known long before I met Ben that I didn’t care for women and when the war was over and I still didn’t know in who’s name we fought it… Not until John happened to drop it when he was drunk.”  
  
The former first mate actually sounds a little accusing, but James can’t really blame him for it. But the accusing tone is gone when Billy says the name:  
  
”Thomas Hamilton. If the memory of him was worth all the blood, what do you think a living husband is worth to me?”  
  
He says it with a longing, in a tone that bare traces of all the pain his love has cost him and James sighs.  
  
”I don’t have to guess, Billy. I know. Thomas was the one who made me let go of the shame the English society threw in our faces, but when he was taken from me, I never realised the shame was still there. Not until Miranda yelled at me and told me I was starting a war for the sake of fighting, to somehow keep the shame away from me.”  
”Was she right?”  
”Yes.”  
”But you and John… How did you…?”  
  
James laughs.  
  
”That man, Billy… Christ, there were times when the only thing preventing me from killing him, Urca treasure or not, was his damn smile!”  
  
Billy sighs, shakes his head and smiles.  
  
”Well, that certainly explains _a lot_ , Captain.”  
”I realise me and John made your life a bit more difficult.”  
” _A bit?_ Compared to handle you two, handling the crew, Vane and a fucking propaganda war was a walk in the sunshine. It was bad enough when I was only deceived by you and Gates. Adding John Silver to it was just like… ending up in another storm.”  
”Imagine how _I_ felt…”  
  
James shakes his head too, but his eyes are soft and he laughs again.  
  
”I seriously doubt I’ll ever have a whole day of peace and quiet with that man by my side, but I wouldn’t trade him for the world, not even if it would bring Thomas or Miranda back. We’ll most likely nag each other to death or end up trying to shoot each other but _Jesus Christ_ , Billy, how I love that insufferable man and if anyone, man or woman, would harm him, so help me God, I will rain holy hell down upon that person.”  
  
Billy can’t really come up with an answer, but somehow it really doesn’t seem necessairy. His former captain has already lost two people he loved and if it happens again… well, then Billy doesn’t want to stand by and watch the consequences. The former captain looks at him with sympathetic eyes.  
  
”Shame, Billy, is a treacherous enemy, but not invincible. Both Thomas and John taught me that.”  
”How?”  
”With patience and in Thomas’ case sweet, cultivated words.”  
”Ben will most likely freak out if I stop cursing and get to talk like a noble man.”  
”Probably. I suggest you ask John for advice, because I honestly don’t know how he did it and I’m not sure I want to know.”  
  
The old clock in the corner strikes five and the former first mate raises quickly.  
  
”God, I forgot the time! I’m really sorry, Captain, but I have to go. Feels a bit rude to leave so sudden, I mean, when you’re talking about all this…”  
”I understand, Billy. He’s waiting for you. And if I was you, I wouldn’t let him wait a moment longer than necessairy. Not even for an old captain’s lifestory.”  
  
Billy’s eyes go serious.  
  
”I’m really grateful you told me, Captain. Truly, I can’t tell you how much it helped. And you know my lips are sealed.”  
”I’m glad it helped and you have my permission to tell Ben. If you think it would help him in any way.”  
”Not that he’s one to let the cat out of the bag, but it’s still your secret, Captain. And a quite personal one.”  
”Billy, I live with the most dangerous man in the whole Caribbean and _he_ knows things about me I’m afraid to even _think_ about in private. Now, go home to your man and let him scold at you for being late.”  
  
TBC


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ”Are you tired?”  
> ”A little.”  
> ”Then when you’re done, perhaps you could make us some tea and then I’ll read to you?”  
> ”Or I’ll read to you with real Scottish accent…”

”You’re late.”  
”I know and I’m sorry, sweetheart. I should’ve kept better track of time, you have every right to be angry.”  
  
I was supposed to be back almost an hour ago, so I’m actually surprised you’re not yelling at me. When I drag you close to hug you, you practically throw yourself in my arms.  
  
”I’m not angry, stupid! I was worried. And scared.”  
”I’m so sorry, Ben, I didn’t mean to upset you. It was really, really stupid of me, honey. How can I make it up to you?”  
”Just… can we not talk about serious things tonight? Or work.”  
”Of course, darling. What do you want to do?”  
”Have you tried any of my bath oils yet?”  
”Um… no…”  
”Well?”  
”Well what?”  
”Would you _like_ to try them?”  
”Well… _yes_ , yes of course I would but how?”  
”We have a tub.”  
”We do?”  
”Uh-huh. Got it from Max.”  
”And where, exactly, is that thing stationed since I’ve missed it?”  
”Um… At the backporch… How did you not see it?”  
  
That’s exactly what I’m asking myself and I drag you with me to have a look. You’re not joking, there’s a fucking tub standing right there and it’s big enough for two. It will require a lot of water… That _I’ll_ have to carry, no doubt about it. You’re oh so blue eyes manage to look both submissive, innocent, mischievous and demanding at the same time and I don’t stand a chance.  
  
”We’re trying your oils, and I’ll carry the water…”  
”I’ve already boiled some water, actually. To help you a little. If you’re not opposed to the idea of having a bath with me, of course.”  
  
Opposed to have _a hot bath with my husband_? _!_ If I ever decline to that, I know I’ve lost my mind for real and I answer by giving you a deep kiss and then grab the bucket.  
  
”Keep the fire going, sweetheart.”  
”You missed supper, Billy. Sure you don’t want something to eat first?”  
”It can wait.”  
   
An eternity and more buckets later than I dare to count, I actually _need_ a bath. And some food. I secretly steal two of your delicious cinnamon buns, put one in my pocket and swallow the other one in the most ungracious manner. I’m a big man and havn’t eaten since noon. Besides, I really need to be very calm and patient now, and a hungry Billy Bones isn’t patient. But there’s no way in hell I’ll let supper go before a chance to reclaim another part of the life I shared with you. Especially not when that chance is as easy as carrying water.  
  
When the bath is ready, you begin to look uncomfortable and I decide we’re not having that. I drag you close in a soft, but firm hug.  
  
”This is how we’ll do, love. I turn around while you undress and get in the water. Then I’ll wash your hair and when I’m done with that, and _if_ you feel comfortable enough, I get inside the bath.”  
”And if I’m not?”  
”Then I turn around while you get up and get dressed and then I take my turn to the tub. Alright?”  
”Alright.”  
  
You smile a little and I turn around, waiting for you to get inside.  
  
”I’m ready.”  
  
_God, you’re beautiful._ Haven’t seen this sight since… Back at the ship?!  
  
”You’re… staring, Billy.”  
”Sorry, I just… memories, you know.”  
  
I take the fragrant soap on the floor and sink to my knees. I wash your hair gently, your golden hair that’s sliding through my fingers again make my heart bit like I’m newly in love. You’re still tense, but I counted on that. Getting you to trust me completely will take some time and this is a very good step ahead.  
  
”Is it alright, love? You feel comfortable?”  
”It’s… nice, actually. But I don’t like that I can’t, you know, see you.”  
  
I move to the side. It makes it a little more difficult to get to your hair, but the way your shoulders lowers makes it worth it. You’ve already been alone for too long and you’re naked in my presence – in a tub with soap foam and, as I notice now, a tovel around your waist. My gaze makes you tense.  
  
”I didn’t want to… I can’t be fully naked yet, Billy. I’m sorry.”  
  
I put my arm around you and give you a kiss on your cheek.  
  
”Don’t apologies, Ben. I want you to enjoy this, not force yourself to something you don’t want to. And you have no obligation to show yourself naked in front of me or anyone. I want to make you feel good, and I wouldn’t object if you’d gone inside this with your shirt and trousers on.”  
  
I really don’t think it’s a good idea for me to get inside before you’re done. I’m ridiculously happy you’re allowing yourself to be _this_ vulnerable with me and I’m not stupid enough to think it’s all pleasure for you. It required a lot to let me as close as this, so I make the next decision for you.  
  
”Actually I think I’ll wait with my bath until you’re done, honey. Is that alright with you?”  
”Yes…”  
”Are you tired?”  
”A little.”  
”Then when you’re done, perhaps you could make us some tea and then I’ll read to you?”  
”Or I’ll read to you with real Scottish accent…”  
”Macbeth! Please, _please_ , you promised once you’d read that to me and I know we have it! It’s in the stack of books I borrowed from Flint a while ago and I completely forgot about it.”  
”You borrowed Shakespeare plays from Flint?”  
”I didn’t ask for it specifically, I just asked him to give me something to read he thought I’d like.”  
”And he gave you a mad, Scottish king, three witches and murderous nobles?”  
”Well, I have a Scottish husband, I’m a murderer and I did confront Flint once about Mrs. Barlow, and he teased me about the rumors he knew I’d heard about she being a sea witch who’d put a spell on him. Do you need more convincing?”  
”I was pursuaded at your first ’please’, sweetheart.”  
  
TBC


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "With a sigh you turn away,  
> with a deepening heart  
> no more words to say.  
> You will find that the world  
> has changed forever.
> 
> And the trees are now turning  
> from green to gold,  
> and the sun is now fading  
> I wish I could hold you closer."
> 
> -Arwen's Song-  
> LOTR

Fear it. Crave it. Everything your light touch, all that my loss of control is unleashing. It consumes me, disgusts me, drags me inexorably closer to you. To myself. I never thought much about my appearence, about my body. Never considered myself either handsome or ugly, just one man among others. Until you came.  
  
The first morning when I woke up in your arms, long before we even kissed properly and sex laying months away, is one of my most treasured memories. Not only with you, but in my life. The nightmares had been particularly horrible that night and when I woke up for the fourth time, my shirt was soaked in sweat and I screamed. You told me later it sounded as if I’d seen the devil himself before my closed eyes, that it was the most terrifying sound you’d ever heard in your life. And when I finally realised I was awake, that it was only another nightmare and that I wasn’t alone in the darkness, I just cried and cried.  
  
You took off my soaked shirt and gently washed the sweat from my body. I already knew your touch was friendly, but the gentleness in your hands that night was of a kind I’d never felt before. Had nothing to compare it with, no man or woman had ever treated me with such kindness. When you’d dried my back and chest, you took your own shirt off and put it on me. I was skinny and the unbleached linen shirt, baring the warmth from your body, fell over my shoulders like a sack. Next to your broad, muscular body I looked like a scarecrow and I remember how the sight of our bodies beside each other, the clear and painful differance between our appearences, had me give away a whimper. You took my head between your hands and asked me, so calm and kind, why I was crying and if you could do anything to help me.  
  
It had been so long since anyone had touched me like that or asked me such a thing, I couldn’t answer. I just cried even more and, to be worse, I began to think about how pathetic I must look in your eyes which, of course, led to a complete breakdown of sobbing. And when I thought you’d draw yourself away from me, you asked – fucking _asked_ – if you could hold me. I don’t rememember my exact answer, probably just a nod, and then you pulled me close. Up until then, I’d fucked and been fucked by men, I’d felt touches of desire from occasional lovers and care from brothers, but your calm, undemanding embrace was a kind of comfort I didn’t knew existed. And as easy as a child, I fell asleep and the nightmares didn’t torture me anymore that night.  
  
To wake up in your arms in the morning, my head resting on one of your broad arms and the other in a gentle pressure against my shoulders, feeling your heart beat steady and calm against my forehead and feel your nose in my hair was… so incredibly comforting and confusing at the same time. You woke up and I didn’t dare to move, or show you I was awake. Figured it would be better if you could pull back from me without seeing my pathetic face looking back at you. A night of comfort in the darkness could easily turn to regret or worse: despise. I silently prepared for you to draw back, loosing the warmth and sense of protection and most likely never feel it again. I grew tense, kept my eyes close and my breathing calm and then I heard it, felt it. A whisper in my hair.  
  
_You’re so beautiful… The most beautiful man I’ve ever seen…_ A kiss so light it was barely a brush from your lips on my forehead. _Just sleep in, Ben. My sweet man with golden hair…_  
  
Had I heard you right? And if not, what had you said that I’d mistaken for such sweet words? No one had called me beautiful or my hair _golden_ before. No one had ever called me _his_. How could I go back to sleep after that? After being pulled closer to you, not pushed away, hearing the sweetest words whispered in my hair.  
  
Couldn’t sleep, didn’t dare to move. My body pressed so close and gently to yours, as if my skinny and wretching bones weren’t repulsive to you at all. A cold morning breeze came through the window, making me shiver, my skin forming goosebumps from the sudden chill and in an instance, I had your jacket over me, your arms tightened around me. By then I couldn’t resist the urge to grasp for you, for anything to hold on to and I found your belt.  
  
My heart nearly stopped when you, very gently, loosened my grip. Had I gone too far? Had I made a fool out of myself? I almost started to pull back, when you entwined our fingers, holding our hands together firmly. Your thumb brushing lightly over mine and then again, the whisper:  
  
_Try to sleep a little, sweet Ben. I’ll keep you safe… I’m not going anywhere without you…_  
  
In the darkest hour, just before dawn, you brightened my life so strongly it reached to every dark corner of my confused and lonely heart. And I feared it. Craved it. It consumed and terrified me. Confused and healed me. To be saved from captivity, only to find my heart stolen by my savior. A man that wanted me, despite my flaws and repulsive appearence, who’s eyes and hands turned me into something desireble. And now I fear it again. Crave it. Long for it so much the loss of what I once had gives me physical pain. And once again I’m falling asleep, nestled safe and warm in your arms, hearing your low voice soothing me to sleep with loving words:  
  
”You turned my life into gold… Wish I could hold you as close as this forever…”  
  
TBC


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I'm afraid, I'm so afraid.  
> being raped, again and again, and again...
> 
> The blade will keep on descending,  
> all you need is to feel my love...
> 
> You have such oceans within.  
> In the end, I will always love you."
> 
> -The Poet And The Pendulum-  
> Nightwish

Usually a stormy night is followed by a calm morning. Not this time. The sleep in his lovers embrace has been peaceful throughout the darkest hours and the break of dawn, but with the sun comes the pain. The self-hate and disgust. A desperate pleadge to forget it, not having to expose it in the light.  
  
The man in charge cannot show himself weak, mustn’t hesitate or show any fear. But harder than anything else, is to not let the man who obeys to get off the hook. To walk with, carry and drag him through the source of his nightmares. Teach him to know the difference between the hands belonging to a loving husband and the ones torturing his mind.  
  
”Don’t claw your arms, love… No, Ben! _Stop it, now._ You know the rules, husband, you’re _not_ allowed to do yourself harm.”  
  
The man who is to obey, still can’t let go and the man in charge takes his wrists in his hands. He’s strong, very strong and the man who is to obey can’t get loose. He panics, but the man in charge isn’t new to this. Not anymore. He shuts his ears to the rage and panic, to the hurting words he now truly know the sorce of. He doesn’t talk back to them, because they don’t come from his beloved man. He will just wait until the man who is to obey, is too exhausted to cause himself any more harm or scream.  
  
The man in charge then loosens his grip and begins to massage the wrists very lightly.  
  
”I’m so sorry, love, you’ll get bruises from this but I couldn’t hold you lighter if I was to keep you safe. You were hitting and clawing yourself and you didn’t stop when I told you to. You know the rules, Ben. If you’re doing yourself harm, I have the right to step in.”  
”Get away from me! You’re evil! And I’m disgusting!”  
”Stop it, husband. Stop _right there_.”  
  
The man in charge pierces his blue eyes in the mans who obeys wild gaze. Dark blue springs, calm as the sea in the early morning. Not a shade of doubts or fear.  
  
”It’s alright, Ben. I know you’re afraid and I know why, but I’m not. Not one bit. This will pass and sooner or later you’ll feel better again. I’m not evil and you’re not disgusting. You’re not allowed to say such things about us, neither am I.”  
”I hate you! You’re hurting me!”  
”I don’t want to hold you like this and it pains me to know it hurts you, but I know it’s better than letting you claw your face. If I have to choose between a husband with blood all over his face or one with bruised wrists, I choose the latter. And when you feel better, I promise you’ll agree with me, sweetheart.”  
  
The man who is to obey answers with an attempt to bite the man in charge, but misses and spits out in agony:  
  
”I fucking _hate_ you!”  
”Yes, right now I’m sure you do, but it will pass. I love you far too much to let any ghosts from the past take you again. You’re _not_ allowed to punish yourself for what others did to you, Ben. Not while I still draw breath.”  
  
The man in charge hates this. Hates the rapists who are still tormenting his love from the grave. How they force him to treat his man like a looney or a child. How many times did they rape him? That’s a question that most likely can’t be answered with a definite number, and that’s a notion that has brought the man in charge to tears a numerous times. But now is not his time to be weak. To rely on, to obey a weak man when you’re haunted by hellish memories will only make it worse, and the man in charge puts aside his own feelings to deal with his husband’s ghosts.  
  
”Trust me, husband, Elaine and Matthew can’t hurt you anymore. They’re but shadows and they paid for what they did to you. To us.”  
”Don’t speak of them!”  
”They’re dead and gone from this world, Ben, and saying their names out loud doesn’t make them come back to life. I avenged you, I claimed the right of a husband and slayed them. As you would’ve done if it’d been me.”  
”That could _never_ have happened to you.”  
”Hey, listen to me: you are _not_ weak. Elaine and Matthew took you out with a blow to the back of your head. I would’ve passed out too, _any_ man would.”  
  
The man who is to obey is crying in agony. The shifts in his feelings, in his expressions are huge and the man in charge understands better for every horrible fit how important it is not to let go of control. The range of the feelings, the sudden shifts would leave his beloved completely shattered if they were allowed to run free and get legitimized.  
  
The bedlinen are drenched in sweat, so are the two men sitting on the bed. It’s been a calm night, followed by a hellish dawn, but the crying man is slowly going still. His ghosts have been forced to yield for now and he didn’t have to fight them alone. His husband is chasing them away, closing the door around his tormented heart and uses his words and touches as a healing salve on it.  
  
”You fought bravely, husband, and we drove them away again. Together. I’m so proud of you, so lucky to call you mine, so grateful for having you by my side.”  
  
The man who is to obey doesn’t answer, but squeezes his husband’s hand hard to his chest. That’s when the man in charge knows the night is finally over, long after the sun is risen.  
  
TBC


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ”Can I ask you something, Charles?”  
> ”Sure.”  
> ”Has Billy ever looked you right in the eyes in a very strange way and then refused to tell you why?”

”He’s asleep.”  
  
And no one will wake him. Not me and certainly not the man he spent three months at sea with. Vane just shrugs.  
  
”I can wait.”  
”It might take a while.”  
”If you don’t want me here, just say it, Ben.”  
  
My jealousy actually irritates me more than his smug face and I wont let any of it ruin my day. At least not this early. I point to one of the chairs.  
  
”Have a seat and stop being smug. Drink?”  
  
I don’t wait for an answer, just pour a cup of rum and give him. He nods at me.  
  
”You’re not drinking?”  
”I’ll have tea. I’m too tired for rum right now and I don’t want to fall asleep by the table.”  
”You didn’t sleep well?”  
”Well enough, but not enough hours. So if you want to speak to Billy, you’ll have to wait until he wakes up. Didn’t came to rest until late this morning.”  
”I see. You feel better now?”  
”What?”  
  
Vane rolls his eyes.  
  
”Come on, Ben, I know. Well, not in detail, of course, Billy’s not one to talk indescrete about you, but I’m not stupid. And before you ask: no, I didn’t come to gloat or steal him from you. Haven’t seen him since we came ashore and I wanted to know how you’re doing. Both of you.”  
  
At least it sounds as if he means it and I can’t be rude to a friend of Billy’s who’s done nothing but helped, even if I didn’t like the way he did it. And I’m honest enough to admit to myself that I feel threatened by him. Charles Vane is everything I’m not: calm, strong, independent and with a body to die for. Everything Billy deserves to have. Of course I’m jealous. Or is it envy? There are moments when I feel not pleased but less disturbed by my body. I takes longer than I thought to get enough meat back on my bones. I sit down myself, filling my cup with tea and refilling Vane’s with rum.   
  
He smiles in an almost dreamy way and in that moment I suddenly understand something I should’ve figured out a long time ago. It wasn’t primarly Vane’s feral features or his well-shaped muscles that made Billy fall for him in the first place. My husband is simply soft for blue, dazed eyes. _Very_ soft. The discovery makes me smile as well. The sense of threat somehow seems to fade.  
   
”Can I ask you something, Charles?”  
”Sure.”  
”Has Billy ever looked you right in the eyes in a very strange way and then refused to tell you why?”  
  
He laughs.  
  
”Yeah! He does that with you too?”  
”Uh-huh.”  
”Fuck! I told him so many times it was fucking creepy! And he always denied he was doing it.”  
”I think I might know why he does it.”  
”Why?”  
”Come on. What’s the one thing we have in common apart from being men and pirates?”  
”Blue eyes?”  
”Exactly.”  
  
Vane shakes his head and takes a big gulp from his drink.  
  
”And he accused _me_ for being romantic… Blue eyes… That bastard.”  
”I must admit I wanted to cut your throat when he took off with you. But I guess I really should thank you, Charles.”  
”I really didn’t do anything but keeping him occupied as my bosun instead of letting him get loose on the bottle. He loves you more than I’ve ever loved anyone, Ben and don’t get me wrong, but Billy is insufferable. I mean he’s an absolute pain in the ass and the worst thing is, he’s a fucking gentleman, well educated, a skilled fighter, has a body to die for and he doesn’t even have the decency to brag about it so you can accuse him for being conceited! It’s a wonder I didn’t strangle him in his sleep years ago.”  
  
I laugh. It’s quite the perfect description of my husband and I know exactly what Vane means.  
  
”He’s not without flaws, but I understand what you mean. I go between wanting to punch him for being so good and asking myself what I’ve done to be so damn lucky…”  
”You still don’t understand why Billy wants to be with you, huh?”  
  
I shrug. I’m really not comfortable talking _this_ openly to Vane and I don’t like the thought of him understanding my husband better than me. It doesn’t make it any better that he looks at me in such a kind way.  
  
”Some of what Billy and I share, goes far back, Ben. And it has nothing to do with fucking or love or even friendship. We have similar backgrounds in our time as slaves and it’s not many people who are capable of understanding that.”  
”And I was part of the crew on a slave trading ship…”  
”If Billy could forgive you for that, so can I. Not that I think you need or want my forgiveness, but don’t for a moment think of yourself as less worthy of Billy’s love, because of that. Unlike most men on such ships, at least you paid for it. If Madi found it in her heart to let you go, _I_ sure as hell won’t hold your past against you.”  
  
His eyes go soft.  
  
”You were one of the men who saved me from the gallows, don’t think I’ll forget that, and I could see how Billy looked at you… _Jesus_ , Ben, that man would’ve left me to the crows if you’d so much as stumbled on a rock! Billy and I have a past, but the present and the future is yours and I’m genuinly happy for both of you. Don’t be jealous, Ben. Billy only went with me because he didn’t know what to do to get you back. He wouldn’t leave you for the world.”    
”I know… I’m glad he has a friend like you, Charles. Just don’t be too irresistable around him. Not that I don’t trust him or you, but I don’t want him to get any ideas.”  
”I can be _very_ easy to resist, take my word for it.”  
”Or mine.”  
  
Billy is standing, arms crossed and with a amused smile on his face, in the chamber doorway.  
  
”Are you having an argument over me?”  
”On the contrary, Billy, we’re busy counting all your flaws and swapping stories about how much of a pain in the ass you can be.”  
”You should get married, Charles. It would keep you busy.”  
”I’d rather sail under Flint and Silver.”  
  
Both Billy and I laugh a little at that and then my husband slides to me and gives me a long kiss. We usually don’t kiss like that in front of others and I blush when I notice the way he’s looking at my eyes. Vane’s dreamy smile is back.  
  
”Remember what I told you, Ben.”  
”What?”  
  
Billy looks suspiciously at me and then Vane.   
  
”What have you told him, Charles?”  
”Oh, nothing you should trouble your thick head with, Billy. I’m sure you’re far too busy with domesticity like ironing curtains and getting fat from Ben’s pastries.”  
”Fuck you too, Charles. Darling, has he been this smug since he came?”  
”Not _all_ the time, but… Are you really sure you don’t want him back, love?”  
  
Vane throws a bun at me from a forgotten plate from yesterday on the table and then Billy empties my cup on his head. Luckily, the tea is barely warm anymore. I clear my throat and Vane stops just as he grabs the pot with honey Billy got for me last week. My husband coughs.  
  
”I _really_ wouldn’t use that as a weapon, Charles. Seriously, the consequenses would be far worse than you could possibly imagine. For both of us.”  
  
Vane looks at the honey pot, then at me, then Billy. He puts it down, rolls his eyes and shakes his head, sighing.  
  
”Domesticity… marriage, fucking _bath oils and honey pots_ … You two lovesick bastards are _so_ disappointing.”  
  
Billy blushes, a blush that deepens when he meets my gaze. He _really_ has a thing for blue eyes.  
  
TBC


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "There are some things that time cannot mend. Some hurts that go too deep, that have taken hold."
> 
> Frodo Baggins  
> -LOTR-

You’ve felt better for at least four days now. Maybe the last huge fit took so much of you, you simply can’t dream very much now? I don’t know, it’s just a stupid guess. Or did Charles’ visit had a good impact on you? Whatever he said to you, it seems to have made you a little more happy. More relaxed. Of course I’m curious, but I wouldn’t dream of asking. If you want to tell me, you will. If not, it’s not for my ears anyway and you’ll only feel guilty for not telling me. So I don’t mention it.  
  
The shifting in your behavior is beautiful. And sometimes _really_ disturbing. Your smile, your calm sleep, you standing on a chair hanging herbs to dry again, hair all messy and shirt sliding up from your belt. It has a very obvious impact on me and I feel more than pathetic about it. Sure, I’ve not had sex in months but even when I could’ve fucked pretty men it wasn’t hard to be abstinent and I still have two hands I can use. It just feels quite awkward getting horny by seeing you do fucking housework. Or hear you reading, watch you sleeping, cuddling with the cats and don’t even get me started on bathing…  
  
Our agreement extends to that as well. I’m in charge. I can touch you without asking, lean further down, but I haven’t gone lower than your chest. I brought you water to the bath earlier. Actually I said I should help you with some of it, but then I didn’t want you to get any of it. You glared a little at first, but since we have a rule that says I have the final word… For the first time in what seems like an eternity, I can indulge you as much as I wish. And I do. I put a good amount of fragrant oil in the tub and when you’re in the hot water I give you my most innocent grin, just to make you suspicious. You raise an eyebrow.  
  
”What are you up to?”  
”You’ll see.”  
  
Candles. Lots of candles I bought from Max to put in empty bottles. And since it would be all but pleasent to start a fire anywhere else than in the stow, I’ve placed the bottles in waterfilled buckets. I bring the buckets from their hidden spot on the back porch and start to light the candles. Soon, about thirty candles are floating in our kitchen and I laugh at your stunned expression.  
  
”You should see your face now, husband.”  
”I… I don’t really know what to say…”  
”Lucky for you, you don’t have to say anything, my love. Unless you want me to put them out, of course.”  
”Hell no!”  
”Good. Oh, I almost forgot…”  
”What?”  
”Close your eyes, sweetheart. Don’t worry, I’m not gonna touch you.”  
  
You actually do it and I’m more than a little impressed. Surprises that includes closed eyes aren’t really your thing at the moment. But what I’m to do is just so ridiculous I want you to shut your eyes mostly for my sake. When I add my last ingredient to the water, while you’re leaning back with eyes closed, the brightest, sweetest laughter I’ve ever heard in my life spring from you.  
  
” _Yer aff yer heid_ , _fear-pòsda!_ ”*  
  
I have no idea what the last word means, but I guess the first part is some kind of gaelic for ”you’re mad”. Interesting. It’s a nice surprise that things you find really amusing make you fall back deep in your Scottish accent… I could get used to that. And I could most certainly get used to dribble rose petals in your bath water… And as long as I’m in charge, I can be almost as ridiculous as I want to. You’re blushing so much your cheeks soon will be as red as the petals and I get to my knees by the tub and plant a kiss on your hair.  
  
”As we agreed… I have the right to indulge you, love. And you know Billy Bones has a reputation to be true to his word.”  
”He certainly has. For _fucks sake_ , darling… How on Earth did you came up with this?”  
  
Now it’s my turn to blush.  
  
”Honestly, I’ve always been a bit of a romantic sap… But I’ve never really had anyone to indulge before. And I when we met, well… a house for strategy plans during a war is hardly the best place to do things like this.”  
”Jacob would’ve felt a little left out.”  
”Jacob Garrett?”  
”He was drooling over you.”  
”He wasn’t drooling!”  
”He really was, Billy.”  
”Alright, he looked, but he didn’t drool.”  
”He was drooling.”  
”Am I not supposed to have the final word?”  
”Yes, husband. I promise I’ll only have right on that subject in silence.”  
”This isn’t fair!”  
”That’s what Jacob would say if he saw us now.”  
  
Of course he would. Every living creature should say that, by the sight of the most beautiful man in the world letting me wash his hair in a tub with rose petals. I silently promise myself that no one but me is coming closer than two arm lenghts to your golden hair again… I can’t help but bury my nose in the wet curls, kissing your head.  
  
”Is this alright with you, love? Or am I too close?”  
”No, it’s fine. More than fine…”  
  
There are men that would allow themselves to get swept away by those words, especially if they had months of abstination behind them. But I’ve felt your pain on my own skin and I know myself about pain that will never be fully healed. Some wounds that go too deep, that leave you scarred forever. I’ll never do the mistake of trying to forget things none of us can ever escape from. Rest from? Yes. Forget sometimes? Maybe. But we’ll always bare our scars and all a man can do is hoping they will fade more and itch less as time goes by. There are so many things I want to do with you now, seeing your beautiful body in this vulnerable, trusting position in the water. To sweep you off the ground, take you in my arms and erate every memory of unwanted touches from your body and mind. I want to let my hands wander all over your skin, have my tongue in all your gaps and taste your sweetness.  
  
I’m aching to bury myself so deep inside you, the only audible word left on your tongue is my name. And I need you to once again open me up, need to feel how you’re taking what you want with a merciless pounding that could split me in two. How it feels when you’re so close to me, it makes me forget about everything and anyone but _you, you, you_ when the waves of pleasure are sweeping through my body.  
  
But you can’t, nor should you, see or feel how hard and wet I am right now. Maybe you’re noticing how my breathing changes a little, how my fingers are shivering as I wash your hair. Maybe you know me so well by now, you don’t need to touch or look to understand my longing. And maybe, what I hope more than anything, you can tell the difference between that shallow need for pure sexual release we all feel sometimes, and a man’s longing to be one and whole with his husband again.  
  
TBC  
  
  
* _You’re out of your mind, husband!_  



	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ”Thank you… For telling me. Not much of a comfort, but I’m glad that captain paid for it. Even if it’s not nearly punishment enough for what he did to you.”  
> ”Nothing ever is. Not for hurting the one you love."

Building trust. Getting close enough to feel your love, but not so close that he’ll feel threatened. Making him feel safe, not powerless even when he’s not taking the lead. The man in charge never knew he had this patience. Possessed this skill of slowliness, the power to control himself to this extention.  
  
The decision to take the next step. About a week with daily baths, feeling him relax more and more from the touch. How it became predictable and safe enough to move forward. The men are to be fully naked in the light now, a decision that makes the man who are to obey, so scared he feels sick for the whole day. Throwing up his breakfast, getting headache and nosebleed. The man in charge doesn’t change his mind. Instead he talks.  
  
”We’ve seen each other naked so many times, husband. It’s not dangerous, we’re not gonna touch if you don’t want to. But you’re supposed to like to be naked with your husband, not scared and the longer you wait, the harder will it get.”  
”I don’t want you to see me naked!”  
”Are you alright with seeing _me_ naked?”  
”I… I don’t know! Fuck! Maybe, but… Please, Billy, I look so damn ugly!”  
”Husband, remember you’re not allowed to talk about yourself like that. And we’re gonna do this. We’re not touching, just getting used to see each other again. I wont allow you to be afraid of my body or my gaze. You must learn that I wont hurt you. That you’re treasured…”  
  
Obedience. Patience. Trust. A slap in the face and the man in charge locks the panicking man’s hands, stopping him from hitting again, meeting the fear with calm and love.  
  
”You mustn’t strike me, love. You’re hurting my face and you have agreed to let me step in when you’re hurting me or yourself.”  
”Let go of me, you asshole!”  
”Only if you promise not to hit me again.”  
”Alright, I promise, just let go of me!”  
”And we’re still going to undress.”  
”No! No fucking way!”  
  
Screams, struggles, tears. A fear so thick one could almost touch it. And the man in charge keeps calm, strong, unmovable. Letting go of the clothes, with memories of being stripped naked by malicious hands lurking behind the corner, is a bigger obstacle than the bath. Getting undressed without watching eyes, slipping into the water still partly covered was a huge step, but to let the man who loves him see him naked again is causing so much panic he can hardly breathe. Once again, the man in charge leans back to the wall and sits down, pulling the terrified man to his lap. Just holding him, letting him cry and go through the horrors in his mind from a safe place.  
  
It’s the first step, he has figured out. To let the man who is to obey rage and cry, remain in the fear without being left alone. In that way slowly learning he’s stronger than he knows and that the ghosts and horrors can be defeated. When the first outburst has calmed down enough to leave room for words, the man in charge begins to speak.  
  
”You’re doing so well, Ben and I know you’re exhahusted now. I truly know how it feels to hate your own body. You remember when we spoke about my time in the Navy?”  
”Yes…”  
”When I was freed, you know I couldn’t bare to be touched by anyone for a long time. I used to bite any man that came near to help me. I bit Gates, Flint, DeGroot, Dr. Howell, Randall…  And I hissed like Betsy.”  
”The cat?”  
”Yes. But eventually, they had to touch me no matter how much I hated it. I felt so ashamed, didn’t want them to know what had happened to me, but of course they knew. I didn’t need to tell, my body and my behaviour spoke clear enough.”  
”What happened when they… touched you?”  
”Well, I tried to bite them, of course, and make resistance. Gates later told me it took four days before I was exhausted enough not to start biting and spitting whenever someone got close. They gave me rum and opium to deal with the pain and humiliation. I hated them for it, wanted nothing but die and I was so unused to kindness by then, that when I realised they took care of my wounds and fed me, I thought they did it only to get me more… appealing to rape.”  
”Jesus… You never told me that part…”  
”It’s a very painful memory and it’s hard to tell the… details. I guess, when we spoke about our pasts in the beginning, that I didn’ want to get deeper than necessairy before I knew if we had a future together. And since then I really don’t think there’s been a good opportunity to talk about it. At least not until now. Maybe I should’ve told you earlier, but you were so scared, such a stranger to me and to yourself the time before I left, I didn’t know how to bring it up. You knew I’d been raped and held captive, and I guess I thought the knowledge of that was enough for you to… I don’t know, keep in mind that I could understand some of what had happened to you.”  
”So… you hated your body? Couldn’t bare to be touched?”  
”Hated every piece of it, yeah. The bastard that raped me, he starved me so I couldn’t put up any resistance. Held me as his slave and whore for three years and when I finally got rescued and, when I had healed, learned that Flint, Gates, Dr. Howell and all the other men in the crew didn’t saw me as a prisoner, a slave or a molly boy to be passed around, I stopped hating myself. Can’t say I was very fond of myself or my body, but I realised I wasn’t either repulsive or irreparable. And neither are you, my love.”  
  
The man who’s in charge is slowly stroking his beloved husband’s hair. The man who is to obey, is finally resting still in his embrace, trying to digest this new part of his darling man’s life.  
  
”Thank you… For telling me. Not much of a comfort, but I’m glad that captain paid for it. Even if it’s not nearly punishment enough for what he did to you.”  
”Nothing ever is. Not for hurting the one you love. But after everything they took from us, I don’t want them to steal another second of our time. Together we’ll fight these fucking demons, yours and mine. They’re not having as much as an inch of our flesh, a moment of our days or a piece of our dreams anymore, Ben. So I’m asking you, husband: Despite how you feel about your body, will you allow me to love and care for it, according to our agreement?”  
  
The man who is to obey, is still scared but the panic has left him. Knowing that no hands will wander off over his skin, or rip off his clothes, he once again remembers that the man who’s in charge would never hurt him. That his patience, his understanding and love will always reach beyond any nightmare, any lingering ghost from the past.  
  
The man who is to obey, put his husbands hands on his shirt and makes a small pull.  
  
TBC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I'm walking very slow in this story and that there's a ridiculous amount of chapters, but to me the everyday struggle, the "invisible" progress that can't be seen from the outside and the small victories really ARE the nerve in a story about PTSD. I don't want to rush to happiness, simply because it takes time to heal. And I've come to love Billy's and Ben's relationship quite a bit. I want to take my time exploring it - and not only the struggles! I hope you're noticing how there are little rays of light appearing in (almost) every chapter.


	28. Chapter 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little moment down memory lane i Kensington - and how practical it would be if you could fold your cock...

The worst isn’t what they took, but what they changed. That they made your hands, your mouth, your embrace feel different. That my body betrayed me when she raped me. That they made a mockery image of our lovemaking, by filling my body with pain and my mind with disgust. Leaving me naked, defeated and with a crying heart in the darkness.  
  
It helps to not face you while you’re taking my shirt off. Helps me to focus on your hands, to remember a time when your touch was nothing but pure bliss. You don’t make comments about my body, not of any kind right now. When the shirt is off, you take a loose grip around my waiste and have me lean back against your chest. You’re not touching my chest or belly, instead you keep stroking my hands and entwining our fingers while you plant very soft and slow kisses on my shoulders.  
  
”How do you feel now, love?”  
”Don’t know…”  
”Is it uncomfortable when I kiss you like this?”  
”Not really. No, it’s… quite nice, I think.”  
”That’s how it’s suppose to be between husbands, Ben.”  
  
We stay like that for a while, getting me used to your naked skin against me again. Your hands don’t wander off, your mouth isn’t too eager or hasty. You’re aroused, not fully, but enough for me to notice it. My wandering gaze doesn’t escape you either.  
  
”You know what, Ben?”  
”What?”  
”This is one of those occasions when I really hate having a cock. Would be so much easier if it could just… fold itself or something and not go _’oh, I felt something, what’s happening’_ at the smallest fucking touch.”  
” _Fold_ itself?!”  
  
I laugh. Literally burst into a laughter and your attempt to explain how practical it would be if you could … _fold cocks_ is so fucking ridiculous I get tears in my eyes. And you keep going with your nonsense.  
  
”What if it could like shrink and disappear when you don’t need it. When it’s really inconvenient, like in a church or something.”  
”How many men get boners in a fucking _church_ , Billy?!”  
”Oh, I saw it happen back in Kensington. Actually the first time I saw a boner, I was in church.”  
”Are you kidding me?”  
”I wish I was. It was the blacksmith. He used to sit on the bench before us and my spot gave me a view I really wasn’t prepared for. He was drunk that Sunday, as he was most Sundays, and he’d fallen asleep during sermon. Anyway, his trousers were somehow unbottoned and he had a boner.”  
”Mother of God… how old were you?”  
”Six, I think.”  
”Did your folks notice?”  
”Ah, yeah… This is actually quite the stupid little story. Wanna hear it?”  
”You actually _have_ to tell me.”  
”As I said, we were at church and I pointed at the boner and asked, a little too loud, why his cock was standing.”  
”Stop it! Stop it!”  
  
I laugh so much I have to catch my breath.  
    
”Christ, Billy… Alright, what happened next?”  
”My father, who really didn’t need anyone to think that he had a rude son since, you know, our neighbors already knew he didn’t believe in subservant wives, very discreatly took me outside, pulled my pants down and put me over his lap.”  
”Oh, poor kid… That wasn’t really fair.”  
”I didn’t think that either. My folks spanked me so rarely and never without first telling me why, so I was totally unprepared for it. And my father _really_ didn’t hold back that time. When he was done, he told me to keep silent until he said I could open my mouth, or I’d get another spanking at home. Then he took me back to the bench like nothing had happened.”  
  
I can picture a very confused and completely innocent six year old Billy who was unfairly punished for noticing a drunk man’s boner. I turn around and kiss your cheek, as if I could comfort the hurt kid about twentyfive years later.  
  
”From what you’ve told me about your folks, that doesn’t really sound like something your father would do.”  
”It wasn’t. I was silent as a mute during the rest of the service, didn’t even sob ’cause I was so scared he’d take me outside again. I was so confused and, as my mother realised back home, all blue and green on my poor ass. And, not to mention, so fucking scared of my father and the threat of another spanking that I, as soon as my mother started yelling at him, ran away to hide.”  
”And you still didn’t know why he’d punished you?”  
”I had no fucking clue.”  
”But where did you go? Sorry, but I’m a little mad at your father now… That was just cruel!”  
”He didn’t mean to be, but yeah, he could’ve handled it a little better. I hid down the river and was absolutely certain that my father hated me and that I, of course, would never go back home again.”  
”Of course. Oh, Billy… And all this because of a drunken bastard and his boner. Your father should’ve kicked his ass instead.”  
”Actually, my mother went to the blacksmith and punched him.”  
” _What?_ ”  
”Drunk and aroused in church isn’t really something you want your customers to talk about and he was a decent man when he didn’t drink, so I guess taking my mothers punch and scolding seemed as a far better alternative than being ridiculed. And when mother told him the scene it had caused and that I had been punished for it, he gave her a new scissor and me a new knife, my first actually, as an excuse.”  
”After she’d punched him? That was really sweet.”  
”So thought my mother, and there was no bad blood between him and our family after that. He even sobered up a little, at least during mass.”  
”But what about you? Poor little Billy… sorry, but I’m still upset.”  
”Oh, I was by my ’hiding spot’ at the river the whole time and felt sorry for myself. It was summer and a sunny day, and I ate lots of wild raspberries so if it hadn't been for my sore ass and my pathetic idea that father hated me, I would've had a quite nice day.”  
”And then it went dark…”  
  
You smile at me. I know you were afraid of the dark as a kid. I grew up on the countryside and darkness never scared me. I never got afraid of darkness until I watched twelve brothers, one by one, die on the Maroon island and I was left alone in the cage, with no one left to chase away the fear.  
  
”Did you go back home?”  
”No, I’d never been alone there when it was dark, so I couldn’t find the way home and by then I was almost certain I’d get another spanking for running away. Which I actually would’ve deserved. Instead, I sat there and waited for the ghosts to come and take me.”  
”Ghosts?”  
”I was six, it was dark and I was alone. And it was raining.”  
”Did they not come and look for you? Your parents.”  
”Of course they did. My father found me, sobbing under the raspberry bush and I was so relieved to see him I forgot to be scared for getting another spanking.”  
”Guess he was quite relieved to.”  
” _Very_ relieved. And of course he didn’t punish me a second time.”  
  
Your eyes go soft, and a bit sad.  
  
”He covered me with his coat and carried me home. Hold me so tight it almost hurt. When we came home, my mother yelled at me for a while, but she mostly hugged and kissed me. Had a warm bath, supper and got tucked to bed. My father sat by my side and then I asked him why he’d punished me.”  
  
You laugh and shake your head.  
  
”Fuck, Ben… I can still see his face before me when he realised I really had _no_ idea what I’d done wrong and I’m the first to admit I don’t know two shits about being a father, but spanking a six year old for noticing a drunk man’s cock in church isn’t really the peak of fatherhood. Especially not when he realised that the one I’d heard the word ’cock’ from, was him.”  
”Jesus… I actually feel quite sorry for him now. And your mother. She seemed like a really good and strong woman.”  
”Oh yes. She was _so_ angry with my father she didn’t smile at him until my ass had it’s natural pale, English color again. They were the best parents anyone could wish for, Ben. Truly…”  
”You still miss them…”  
  
It’s not a question and you know it. While we’ve talked, I’ve forgotten all about my own little discomfort. Have been too busy picturing my husband as a kid and defending that kid. Kids…  
  
”I know we’ve talked about this before, but are you sure you don’t want to… be a father, Billy?”  
”Quite sure. All I ever dared to dream about after I became a pirate, was enough gold and freedom to spend it as I pleased. And before that I mostly wished myself dead. I had a very good childhood, better than most people could wish for, but no, I don’t picture myself as father. Never had.”  
”Me neither.”  
”And if you’re to be a father, I guess it’s a good idea to actually feel just _a little_ interrested in someone who could help you to become one. Believe me, I’m more than happy to know the one I love at least can’t die in childbirth. There really are a lot of benefits in living with another man…”  
”Amen.”  
  
Since we started talking about your childhood, I’ve not thought about the fact that I felt your arousal against my back. I don’t even know when it went soft and I realise I’ve been completely relaxed in your arms for a long time now. Your stupid boner joke and that sweet and sad little childhood story made me forgot all about the discomfort I felt about being partly naked, and now it’s simply not there anymore. What’s been taken from you, sometimes you can take back. And I think we just recklaimed another piece from our stolen treasure. My laughter.  
  
TBC


	29. Chapter 29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ”You’re a savage, Charles. And an idiot.”  
> ”I’m an idiot? You’re wearing a silk noose around your neck one could easily use to strangle you with, because it’s considered ’civilized’ and I’m the idiot?”
> 
> A small gathering. And some champagne :)

”A what?”  
”A _cravat_ , Charles.”  
”It looks stupid. Makes _you_ look stupid.”  
”Should’ve let them hang you.”  
”Fuck you, Featherstone.”  
  
John sighed.  
  
”Just… shut up. Please! And Charles, remove your fucking boots from the table!”  
  
It had been a mistake letting Vane and Featherstone wait in the salon. On second thought, letting Vane enter the house had been a mistake, letting him into the salon was a disaster. Vane snickered, but removed his dirty boots from the fragile teak table.  
  
”You two are even worse than Billy and Ben. At least they have stable furniture. This is just pathetic.”  
  
Featherstone shook his head.  
  
”You’re a savage, Charles. And an idiot.”  
”I’m an idiot? You’re wearing a _silk noose_ around your neck one could easily use to strangle you with, because it’s considered ’civilized’ and _I’m_ the idiot?”  
  
John coughed.  
  
”I hate to admit it, Augustus, but for once he has a point. It probably wont happen again in the next five years or so, so we should let him have it.”  
  
Vane didn’t have the time to answer before James entered, nodding at Featherstone.  
  
”It suits you. Look like a proper gentleman.”  
”Thank you, Flint. It’s good to know someone in here has good taste.”  
  
Both John and Vane started to protest when Idelle and Max showed up.  
  
”Good evening, gentlemen.”  
  
The ruler’s of Nassau distinct accent silenced the bicker and John, still always in for charming beautiful and intelligent women, kissed the couple on their hands and Vane rolled his eyes and looked at Max.  
  
”Please tell me you’ve sent for Jack and Anne, ’cause I seriously start to feel sick from all this domesticity. Why did you summon us, by the way?”  
”Are you going anywhere, mon chere?”  
”I have a molly waiting who came with me from Tortuga and I don’t want my crew to take liberties with him.”  
”For fucks sake, Charles…”  
  
John shook his head and Vane beat out his hands.  
  
”What? I’m paying, so I’m the one doing the fucking.”  
  
Idelle sighed.  
  
”Gentlemen! And Charles... Shut the fuck up, please. Max has already spoken to Jack and Anne, and they’re on their… oh, here they are.”  
”Thank you, my love.”  
  
Max gave her mistress a soft smile and nodded at the rugged couple entering the room. James took a sip from his cup, put an arm around John’s waist and Vane buried his face in his hands, groaning:  
  
”Just get to the fucking point, Max. What’s this meeting about?”  
”We’re celebrating.”  
  
Six pairs of eyebrows rose at the same time and Idelle rolled her eyes.  
  
”Typical… The men know nothing, as usual!”  
  
Rackham coughed.  
  
”And by Anne’s expression I believe she’s a man.”  
”Fuck you, Jack.”  
  
The redhaired woman glared at him and then at Max.  
  
”The fuck’s going on?”  
”Max will tell you, dear Anne. And you, come here, _ma chérie_.”  
  
Max kissed Idelle on the cheek and patted her lap. It was dead silent in the room when Idelle sat on her mistresses lap and Max closed her eyes, looking all exasperated.  
  
” _Putain_ … Yes, me and Idelle have an agreement and I don’t know why I ever thought any of you _crétins_ to be clever enough to find out. _Bien_ , let’s see if you’ll understand the concept of _matelotage_. At least I’m sure of two people among you who will.”  
  
Vane made a questioning gesture, clearly showing he didn’t understand a shit and John snorted.  
  
”Yes, Charles, as you know me and James got married quite some time ago and the reason we’re here now is to discuss what we’re giving Billy and Ben on their wedding.”  
”What you _always_ give matelots: _liqor_! Sorry, but are you saying I left that molly on my ship for a discussion about fucking _wedding gifts_? Jesus fucking Christ…”  
”Not only that, _mon cher_.”  
  
Idelle rose and then Max went to the door and a basket standing there. She took up two dusty bottles and Featherstone dropped his jaw.  
  
”Is that what I think it is, Max?”  
”Ouie, _mon cher_.”  
  
Several months earlier, a ship with a special delivery of champagne, a gift from the king of France to the governor of S:t Martin for his daughters wedding happened to get in the hands of Charles Vane and the champagne intended for a governors daughter and her noble husband to be, was taken to Nassau instead. And as Max was a woman with taste, she’d stored her part of the prize.  
  
She couldn’t think of a better occaision to drink it, than at a sodomite wedding hosted by a former French slave and prostitute. And since she had to taste to know it really suited as a gift… well, why not hold a small celebration in advance? Max looked at her friends.  
  
”Yes, this is the champagne that was supposed to be served at a noble wedding. One of the finest drinks one could be served and some of it will be Ben’s and Billy’s wedding gift. But I also thought it would be suitable making the tasting to an opportunity for thanking and celebrating the fact that this marriage will finally take place. James, _mon cher_ , where do you keep your glasses?”  
  
It was silent in the room when Max opened the bottle, poured the royal, bubbling drink in James’ and John’s crystal cups – a wedding gift from DeGroot – and handed them out to the gathered friends, lovers and allies. The ruler of Nassau raised her glass.  
  
” _Pour l’amour_. To Billy and Ben.”  
  
The others raised their glasses and repeated the words. Idelle was the only who noticed that Vane had tears in his eyes when he emptied his drink.  
  
TBC


	30. Chapter 30

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ”Don’t cry, husband… You’ve cried enough for me…”

There is only so much patience I can muster when I see him now. He’s undressing, getting ready for bed and I watch him from the doorway. I haven’t really _seen_ him fully naked for so long and the sight is just stunning.  
  
The dimple just above his chest and under it the necklace I gave him rests against the bones. Blonde hair  falling over the shoulders, muscles moving under the soft, warm skin. The belt he unbuckles, leather and fabric removed from his slender waist, dark curls in the valley between his thighs… He’s turning so I, if he’d known I’m watching, can’t see his frame. My eyes slides all over his back to the firm ass, sending a stream of memories of the tight heat lowering down on or pushing back against me…  
  
”Billy?”  
  
I’m thrown back to the reality: I’m peeping on my husband while he’s undressing like some pervert and I blush. But he doesn’t seem angry or uncomfortable at all. Just… insecure? And a little frustrated.  
  
”Are you just gonna stand there?”  
”Sorry, I didn’t mean to stare. I’ll leave.”  
”Don’t. Could use some help.”  
”Help?”  
”The necklace. The damn lock is stuck in my hair.”  
  
It really is. Have no idea how he managed to get it tangled up like that, and I release the necklace from his curls and hand it over to him from behind, leaving my hands on his chest, leaning my head against his neck. I’m too messed up inside to dare to move right now. I only bury my lips in his hair, drawing down the sent from herbs and bread in my lungs. Words are falling from my lips, unbidden and confused.  
  
”Husband, _please_ … I need you, I need you so much. Need you in every way…”  
  
Seeing his naked beauty before me like this makes my tongue slip and my heart beats painfully from all the feelings the sight stirs up within me. All I want right in front of me, all my longing with golden hair comes crashing down with such force that I don’t even notice I have tears in my eyes before he turns around and puts a soft thumb on my cheek.  
  
”Don’t cry, husband… You’ve cried enough for me…”  
  
And just like that he reaches up, wraps his arms around my shoulders and lets his leg stroke up against my hip. The next second I lift him, nuzzling desperately against the side of his neck as his legs swirl hard and tight around my waiste. Hot air and lips reaches my ear.  
  
”I’ve missed you so terribly, Billy… Want to be _yours_ again…”  
  
The words make me moan and cry, I’ve longed for them so much they turn me into a shivering mess, far from the strong, controlled man I’ve promised him to be for as long as he needs it. I kiss him eagerly and he meets me with the same passion I feel rushing through me. My tears don’t stop him, he knows what they mean and I feel his short nails digging into my skin, the strenght in his hands and the beard scraping against my face. When he grinds himself against my cock, I practically whine and all I can think of is how hard he is, how desperate I am to have him in any way possible. I don’t care how, as long as I can have him. Now, _now_.  
  
I don’t know when or how we reach the bed, ruining the cats peaceful sleep as we tumble down in an entwined mess of unleashed needs. My husband’s all over me, tugging my shirt until it’s on the floor and unbuckles my belt, scooting down my trousers and straddles me. He leans down to catch my mouth in a deep kiss, takes our cocks in one large fist and starts to grind them together.  
  
”Fuck!”  
  
I just scream. I’ve hardly even touched myself for months from simply lack of lust and I realise I’m not the one in charge now. He’s strong enough to allow himself to take what he wants, what he knows I want him to have, and I give in to it all. The friction from his hand and _oh, God_ , that thick, rock hard and smooth cock, pulsing and leaking over mine… I just loose it. My moans and pantings turn into nothing but an ongoing whimper, there’s not even a shade of strength or control left in me and when he leans forward to scrape his teeth on my left nipple, and puts his left index finger in my mouth I’m already on the edge and I moan while biting.  
  
”I’m gonna come… Gonna come anytime, love… I… I can’t…”  
”Come for me, darling… ”  
  
Only a handful of tugs later I hit climax shouting and back pushing up from the bed and while pleasure streams through me I desperately try to keep my eyes open, want to watch his face as I hear the nothing but fucking exquisite groan when he comes all over my chest.

That face. That sound. The hot, wet body covering me in a panting embrace. I swirl my arms and legs around him, he buries his lips against my neck and then we just lay like that, slowly catching breaths and coming down from the high. And he’s with me. _He’s with me_.  
  
TBC


	31. Chapter 31

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I wish for this night-time  
> to last for a lifetime,  
> the darkness around me,  
> shores of a solar sea.  
> Oh how I wish to  
> go down with the sun.  
> Sleeping,  
> weeping  
> with you."
> 
> Sleeping Sun  
> \- Nightwish -

You look dazed. It was certainly not the longest or most physical fuck we’ve had, but it’s as if we’re both completely exhausted. Feels like my body carries the weight of a whole ship. That I could sink through the mattress, the planks in the bed and the floor down to the abyss without resistance. Seems like you’re experiencing something similar.  
  
We’re both glistening with sweat and semen. Should grab something to clean us with, but neither of us move. We’re facing each other, but your eyes don’t search, don’t keep watch. They rest. It’s the kind of fatigue that leaves no room for emotions anymore. No worries, no passion, no questions or thoughts. It just is. Whatever you see right now when you look at me, it causes you no worry whatsoever.  
  
The window is open. I forgot to close it earlier. Forgot everything I was thinking about the same moment I saw you were looking at me by the door. The necklace you helped me with lies on the floor next to one of your boots. A breeze comes through the window and my skin prickles.  
  
”I should close that… But I can’t move…”  
  
Your voice is thick and muted. Not sure if I hear a shade of fear in it and I decide to cut it off, if it’s there.  
  
”It felt right. As it should do, almost as if nothing of… _that_ , mattered.”  
  
The sigh from you is so deep it’s almost a whimper. It’s not loud, but the air you exhale carries all the loneliness, fear, longing, sorrow and despair I know you’ve felt since that awful day. The relief, the notion that we both recognize the man beside us. I don’t need any words added to it. They would only make you cry, and you’ve shed enough tears for me. Enough for a lifetime.  
  
Another chill puff comes through the window and I shiver. You’re rising, slowly, but the loss of your heat makes me pull you back. An irrational part of me can’t stand separation, no matter how passing. You take my hand and give me a sleepy kiss.  
  
”We’ll wake up teeth chattering if we don’t close that window. And get another blanket.”  
  
You’re right. I let you pull me up halfways and then I drag myself out of bed, like an old man. I need to wash. The water pail by the stove is half full and I use my shirt as a cloth to get rid of most of the fluids lingering on my skin. Then I carry the pail to our bed that you’ve remade and start to clean you as well. You’re so tired you rest your forehead against my hair and when we’re dry enough, we stumble back to bed where the cats are already laying. They look at us like our presence is a personal offence, but when we’re back under the sheet and have come to rest again, I feel paws walking over our entwined legs and soft purrs breaking the silence, like a lullaby putting us to sleep.  
  
TBC  



	32. Chapter 32

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some preparations with thewalruscaptain's "asshole pirate husbands" :)

At first, Billy was tempted to say no. He’d been by the beach since early morning, helping out with the careening of _The Ranger_ – Vane’s men did boring work _far_ better under their former bosun’s watchful eyes even if he didn’t raid with them anymore – and was looking forward to a calm evening with his husband by the fire. Going to the tavern for a drink seemed far less tempting than being alone with Ben and sharing a drink on the backporch. And Billy still had the final word in everything so if he said no, he’d hear no argument from Ben. An unhappy or irrititated gaze, at most, but nothing more.  
  
But on the other hand: an unhappy spouse made an unhappy home and to be honest, Billy knew he would never be able to refuse Ben anything that made the man happy, it was in his power to give it to him. Of course they would go to the tavern.  
  
Billy sometimes forgot that Ben hadn’t been away from the house very much, not even during those months Billy was sailing with Vane. Ben had never been much of a peoples person, even before the captivity on the Maroon Island, and seemed perfectly content with staying home most of the time. Billy was a little more restless, being used to constantly work for years, either doing handiwork on the ship, handling crew members and constructing plans or simply just running around supervising different work tasks, making sure people did what they’d promised. Sitting by the fire in a home of his own, not being surrounded by mens loud – and to be honest, quite boring – talking and eating meals far better than any tavern could serve, was a little piece of heaven after more than fifteen years at sea.  
  
But, as both Silver and Flint said when he met them on his way back home from the careening, it wasn’t good for Ben to avoid the town too much. Sure, he did arrends when he had to, but no one had seen the man actually sitting down for a drink in public or take part in conversations if he could avoid it, since the night he’d been taken. At first, Billy thought it was nothing strange with it. Ben had been by the tavern that awful night and it was natural to avoid it. Silver, however, found it a bit worrying.  
  
”He can’t stay by the house all the time, avoiding people like that, Billy. It’ll only make him feel more uneasy and awkward around people.”  
”He’s not awkward!”  
”I didn’t say he was. I said he _felt_ awkward, which is a whole different thing, Billy.”  
  
Silver’s leg hurt a little more than usual and he leaned against the wall to get some pressure of the stump. Flint didn’t make any effort to help him. No weakness in public. The former quartermaster sighed a little from the pain and scratched his beard.  
  
”Look, Billy, if Ben doesn’t leave the house because of what happened to him, eventually he’ll be afraid of his own shadow. He has to reclaim his life in all aspects.”  
”Of course he must, but that doesn’t mean he has to do it now.”  
”Why do you resist the idea so much? I mean, I know you’re not very keen on the bottle and let’s not even get to the tavern girls, but I’ve never known you to refuse a drink or two in good company.”  
”And people are talking.”  
  
Flint, who hadn’t said anything about the matter yet, suddenly raised his voice and Billy frowned.  
  
”What you do mean ’talking’? About Ben? Or me being absent from the tavern?”  
”As much as I know the two of you wishing to remain as private as possible, you have to remember that both of you had key roles in the saving of Vane and the liberation of Nassau. The longer you’re not seen in public, the more people will start asking questions and when Ben eventually show himself at the tavern again, he will be the center of attention in a way I don’t think any of you want.”  
  
Silver nodded.  
  
”He’s right. Why not visit the tavern quite early in the night, before the place gets too loud and crowded. Grab a drink, have a chat with Idelle and Featherstone and then leave when the hordes of horny men arrives.”  
  
Billy snorted.  
  
”Yeah, I’m not worried about the men. Honestly I’m more worried about what I might do if any of the girls come near Ben.”  
”Then you tell her to fuck off and if that doesn’t work, you punch her. I’m sure Mrs. Mapleton will understand.”  
”I’m serious, John. Just the _thought_ of anyone…”  
  
He didn’t finish. Didn’t have to. Silver and Flint both looked at him with nothing but deepest sympathy. Their former crew member swallowed hard, his eyes were blank and he bit his lip. Silver took his hand.  
  
”It’s perfectly understandable that you feel that way, but I don’t think you want to lock Ben in some golden cage. And if he’s with you, what harm could happen to him? If it makes it feel better, me and James could make you company. Four of Nassaus most well-knowned citizens having a drink together would raise a little attention, of course, but no more than my silver tongue could handle. If I want to head the attention away from Ben, you of all people must know I’ll do it.”  
  
Billy gave a tired laugh and Flint sighed and shook his head.  
  
”Can you believe I actually married this man?”  
”I can, Captain. As you might remember, I was your bridesman and sober enough to remember when both of you said ’I do’, so if you’re looking for an anullment I’m afraid I can’t help you.”  
  
Silver just smiled at Billy and gave his husband a light kiss on the cheek.  
  
”Just get your man out of the house for a nice evening in pleasant company. By the look of your left hand, you’re still getting married eventually, and you don’t want your groom to feel uneasy among his own wedding guests, do you?”  
  
Flint threw a glance at the ring.  
  
”Have you settled a date yet?”  
  
Billy shook his head.  
  
”Don’t want to put too much pressure on him.”  
”You seriously don’t think he’s getting second thoughts?”  
  
Silver looked shocked by the very thought and Billy snorted.  
  
”No, I don’t! Christ, John… You really think I’d be wearing an engagement ring if I thought he didn’t want me?”  
”Of course not. Just out of curiosity, why do you call each other husbands already?”  
”That I’ve been wondering too.”  
  
Flint filled in and Billy got the fearsome couples eyes on him. The former first mate laughed.  
  
”Actually, that’s my fault. We’d been a couple for like four or five months, when I, stupidly enough, asked him to not get… too drunk.”  
”Asked or _told_ him?”  
  
Flint looked far too amused.  
  
”My intention was to ask him, but I somehow managed to make it sound like an order.”  
  
Both Flint and Silver just burst into laughter.  
  
”You accidently told a fucking _Scotsman_ how much he could drink?! Bloody hell, Billy, I’d almost give my other leg to see that!”  
”You’re a son of agitators, Billy and you managed to save Vane, rescue me from being the villain of Nassau and put my dear husband as a front figure in my place, and then you try to _give orders_ to a Scotsman who also happens to be a fucking nightmare with knives?!  God, this is just priceless!”  
  
Billy rolled his eyes.  
  
”Yeah, go on, just laugh at me. But keep in mind I actually do _all_ of the decisions for that Scotsman at the moment, including how much he can drink. He’s given me the right to have the last word in everything, and I do mean _everything_ , for as long as I think it’s in his best. Remember that, the next time you’re having a fight and want to strangle each other.”  
  
The two greatest villains of Nassau, calmed down very quick and Silver glared at his husband who always seemed to get a little too interrested in the thought of having the last say.  
  
”Shut up, James.”  
”I haven’t said a word!”  
”You’re thinking. Loud. And I hear what you’re thinking about.”  
”I don’t…”  
” _Just forget it, dear husband_.”  
  
Billy smiled as innocent as only he could.  
  
”What a perfect image of marrital happiness you two make. And in case you’re wondering, Ben actually did cut down on drinking when he was done cursing my name, just to prove me wrong. About two weeks later, he said I was right.”  
  
Silver took a deep breath.  
  
”Billy…”  
”What?”  
”Just shut up.”  
  
TBC


	33. Chapter 33

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ”Hello, mate. What’s your problem?”  
> ”You. Or, more correctly: you’re causing my matelot problem and that, my friend, means you’re my problem too.”  
> ”Then perhaps you shouldn’t leave him out of sight, mate. Who knows what could happen to him?”

”Bonsoir, ma chérs!”  
”Good evening, Max. Idelle.”  
”May we join you?”  
”Of course.”  
  
Billy gave Max and Idelle a kiss each on the cheek. The ruler of Nassau and her mistress didn’t often take part in drinking company openly these days, but every now and then, when the company was pleasant enough they could share a cup. By the look of Max’s eyes, seeing him and Ben together in public again after so many months, was very pleasant indeed.    
  
Ben seemed relaxed enough. Quiet and a little withdrawn, but he smiled at Max and Idelle and after a while he joined the conversation. John and James soon joined them and then Ben, as usual, took less part in the talking and rather listened. Billy smiled at his husband. People had often mistaken the unobtrusive, quiet man for stupid or a looney, due to his flickering eyes and even if Billy wasn’t sure how much of the glares Ben discovered, they always annoyed him. The last thing you could accuse Ben of being, was a simpleton. He just enjoyed listening rather than talking in bigger companies. And to be fair, hearing John’s stories was always amusing.  
  
By the way Ben smiled, even laughed and sometimes shook his head at the more ridiculous parts in John’s stories, he seemed to feel as relaxed and bright as you could wish for and Billy found himself just sitting there, in the shadow of the man, listening to his laughters and distinct Scottish accent with a dreamy smile on his face. Then, Billy discovered a pair of cat like eyes to the left and saw Vane squatting beside him.  
  
”Good evening, bosun.”  
”Good evening, captain.”  
”You have the look of a man stupid enough to let himself fall in love.”  
”I’m that obvious, huh?”  
  
The captain’s warm smile was all the answer Billy needed and the former bosun leaned down and whispered:  
  
”I really hope your men remember how fast I am with my knives. If I see as much as a glance in Ben’s way that I don’t like, that will be the last glance those eyes ever throw again.”  
”Don’t worry. They know whom he belongs to. And should any of them get drunk enough to forget that, well, then you have my permission to cut as you wish. Speaking of knives, your man seem to be well-equipped in that matter too.”  
  
Alongside the two pistols, a couple of long, thin and very sharp daggers hung in their sheats by Ben’s belt. Looking at him, smiling or not, he really didn’t appear to be a man you should pick a fight with. Vane snorted.  
  
”By the way you’re staring at him, you might have to cut out your own eyes.”  
”Oh, shut up, Charles and let me enjoy this. He’s just so damn pretty…”  
”Don’t ask me to complimant him. I plan on keeping my eyes.”  
”Wasn’t gonna keep them, just move them a little.”  
”You’re a little anxious for real, huh? Not that I blame you.”  
”Feels a bit ridiculous, thou. He’s a grown man and can take care of himself. I even left him alone here for months and no one harmed him, so who am I to watch over him like som fucking harem guard.”  
”Aren’t they usually eunuchs?”  
”Very funny, Charles.”  
”Speaking of eunuchs… How are things going?”  
  
Billy batted his eyelid.  
  
”Why?”  
”Fuck, Billy! I’m not asking for fucking details, you above all should know I never do that. I only wonder since before you left, he couldn’t stand you to touch him.”  
”We’re making progress.”  
”And by the way you blush, a quite big one.”  
  
Vane smiled fondly at his bosun and Billy’s eyes went soft. He rose.  
  
”Gotta take a leak.”  
”I’ll go with you.”  
  
When they returned, a man was hanging over Ben. Not close enough for Ben to draw his knife, but clearly encroaching his personal space. Before Billy could intervene, Vane grabbed his arm and whispered:  
  
”Wait. Let him handle it himself.”  
”But…”  
”Just wait! Don’t you get it? If people get the impression that Ben can’t defend himself unless you intervene, he’ll get a reputation of being weak. And Ben’s got to learn that he’s strong enough. And you’re _here_ for fucks sake and among friends.”  
  
Billy stopped. Instead of approaching straight forward, he took a turn, placing himself some steps away sidelong the table, far enough for the man not to notice him, but close enough for Billy to hear.  
  
”Can I offer you a drink?”  
”That’s very curtious of you, but my cup is spoken for.”  
”From my view it seems like he’s abandoned you. What’s your name?”  
”Ben Gunn, and no, my matelot hasn’t abandoned me simply because we’re not glued together all the time.”  
”Well, a matelotage doesn’t necessairly exclude another, right?”  
”This matelotage does.”  
  
Ben’s voice had changed from friendly yet uninterested, to slightly uncomfortable. The man leaning closer to him was pretty enough and clearly not used to be put off. Billy pushed Vane’s arm aside and went to the table where the man tried to make a move on his husband. Ben’s face showed a clear relief and Billy looked at the unwanted courter.  
  
”Hello there, mate.”  
  
The man scowled.  
  
”Hello, _mate_. What’s your problem?”  
”You. Or, more correctly: you’re causing my matelot problem and that, my friend, means you’re my problem too.”  
”Then perhaps you shouldn’t leave him out of sight, _mate_. Who knows what could happen to him?”  
  
Vane, who of course heard it, shook his head in disbelief. _Of all the stupid things to say to Billy Bones…_ He hadn’t even finished his thought before a large fist landed in the unwanted courters face. A friend of the courters made an attempt to attack Billy, but found himself decked from Ben’s headbutt. Then, quick as a snake, the Scotsman placed his knife at the unwanted courters throat. His voice was calm and soft as silk:  
  
”Were I you, _mate_ , I’d be more worried about what might happen to you if you try to take liberties.”  
  
Billy gave a dangerous smile, eyes glittering with a rare shine.  
  
”You heard him, _mate_. Your attention is not wanted here, so why don’t you try your luck elsewhere?”  
”How brave of you to come to your _boy’s_ rescue.”  
  
The cut was so quick, only Billy and Vane actually reacted before the blood squirted all over the floor. A gurgle, a sigh and the only thing reminding of a life leaving the limp body was the still surprised gaze in the eyes. Ben’s hands and sleeves were colored red and he cleaned his knife as casual as if he’d ridded a fish and dried the worst of the blood from his hands on the dead man’s shirt. When he spoke, he could just as well have commented the weather.  
  
”Max?”  
” _Mon cher?_ ”  
”Please excuse me for dribbling this kind of shit on your floor. May I ask any of your girls for a suitable sack to put it in?”  
” _Oui, mon cher_ … _Bien sûr_. Idelle, please fetch Hannah and Charlotte to bring something to take care of this with.”  
  
Idelle rose immediately and left. John stared at Ben as if he’d never got a proper look at the Scotsman before and the whole tavern was dead silent. Ben frowned and nodded at the audience.  
  
”The fuck are ye lookin’ at? Anyone else want to make a move?”  
  
His light blue eyes flew around the room, but no one wanted any trouble and he put his knife back in it’s sheet.  
  
”That’s what I thought. Now _get tae fuck, ye eejits_!”  
  
The men and girls quickly turned to their drinks and costumers and Ben looked at his friends around the table. His gaze, for some reason, stayed at John.  
  
”Silver…”  
”Yeah?”  
”Come with me outside.”  
  
John quickly looked at Billy, who was just as frozen on his spot as the others, and the former bosun nodded. John rose and followed Ben outside, while their husbands’ gazes followed them in silence.  
  
TBC


	34. Chapter 34

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "A word of advice, Ben: allow him to care for you even when you can’t give anything in return."
> 
> (Yes, thewalruscaptain, this is John Silver speaking <3)

”How do you manage it? Feeling weak…”  
  
The Scotsman sounded tired. They were standing within sight from the tavern, but out of hearing. John’s blue eyes had lost much of their previous teasing glitter, but since the marriage to James, Ben found they somehow seemed warmer. He’d never seen the glitter himself, only heard Billy telling about it when he told the story about how John Silver managed to become accepted by the crew. But he could easily imagine it: this man, a little younger, curly hair hanging loose and eyes as deceitful as the bright smile. And John Silver was still beautiful, _very_ beautiful, even when he leaned heavily against the wall to get some pressure off his leg.  
  
”How I manage to feel weak…”  
”It’s not meant as an offense.”  
”I understand that.”  
  
John was all serious now, talking thoughtfully and slow.  
  
”You know, Ben, the worst part for me was never the pain. Or the weakness itself. No, the worst fucking part is to allow others to tend to you without loosing your mind. _We will take care of you…_ When I lost my leg, there were no words I hated more than those. The thought of not being able to take care of myself, to be a burden to others…”  
”To James?”  
”Well, that came later, but yes. As long as he’s not getting badly wounded or my leg miraculously grows back, I need to be weak in front of him every single day we spend together for the rest of our lives together.”  
  
The blue eyes were weary and he moved his bad leg a little, trying to keep the circulation going.  
  
”I don’t mean to compare your pain with mine, but I think I might know a little of what you feel. Billy is a caring man, if ever there was one and he’s not afraid to show it. Most of the time I assume it makes you feel good, sometimes I guess it feels right down wonderful, but then there are those moments when it just… disgusts you. Not the care itself, certainly not the love or Billy, but to over and over realise you’re not as independent as you used to be. And then those toughts are sneaking up on you: Does he really love me? Am I a burden to him? Is it care in his eyes, or pity?”  
  
Ben swallowed.  
  
”And then you feel guilty for thinking that…”  
”Yes. And I love my husband to death, but between you and me, compared to James Billy is a fucking saint. It’s not easy to love a sinner, but it’s far, far easier than loving someone who’s about as close to a saint as one could be in Nassau. At least James threatened to kill me a couple of times.”  
”So you say Billy’s simply far too decent to make sense?”  
”No. He just loves you so much it’s impossible for him not to care, even when it drives you mad.”  
  
John smiled, a soft and slightly sad smile.  
  
”A word of advice, Ben: allow him to care for you even when you can’t give anything in return. Everytime I let James help me, when I show myself weaker than I want to, somehow it helps him to love me. And I don’t mean that he wants me to be weak or enjoys it, not at all, but it leaves a room for him to be the man he always wanted to be: loving, caring and patient. Things he didn’t thought himself capable to upbring, and now when he has the chance to be that man again, I can’t cause him the pain of not allowing that.”  
”Let me indulge you…”  
”What?”  
”That was his condition. To be allowed to indulge me.”  
”I’m not surprised, it sounds like Billy. But how do you feel about it?”  
  
Light blue eyes, a smile sneaking up upon the tired face, surrounded with blonde hair.  
  
”I love it. And it scares the shit out of me.”  
”Welcome to marriage. Did you see the look on Billy’s face when you cut that asshole down?”  
”No. How so?”  
”He didn’t seemed surprised by _you_ , Ben. He knows exactly how strong you are, and I seriously don’t think he has any doubts that you could handle it yourself. No, he was about as proud as a husband could be, and the last thing he saw in you, was weakness. Of course, his first thought probably was to help you, but Vane hold him back.”  
”Charles did that?”  
”Guess he wanted Billy to not only know, but really _see_ that you’re not in constant need of a guard. And believe me, Ben, he saw. He just needed to see it first hand. _God_ , Ben! The look on his face when he saw you with that assholes blood all over you, I swear that gentle, caring man of yours had thrown himself at you, begging you to fuck him if you’d been alone.”  
”Fuck, you’re blunt! Silver tongue, my ass.”  
”Point is, Ben, our husbands don’t want us weak. They’ve never seen us as weak men or useless husbands, not even when we couldn’t hit fucking privy without help. So, the answer to your question is this: I manage to be, to feel weak, since I know James doesn’t _want me_ to be weak. Our husbands may not have that much in common, but know this: they want free men, allowing them to make them happy. Do you really think we should deny them that?”  
  
Ben looked long and steady at him.  
  
”That’s all that’s in it for you? The notion that James wants to care for you, but not want you to be weak?”  
”No.”  
”Then what?”  
  
John closed his eyes, smile going a little dreamy.  
  
”I allow him to see me weak, beacuse it allows _me_ to let go of control and stop asking myself if I deserve his love or not. And that, my friend, is the greatest freedom I’ve ever felt.”  
  
TBC


	35. Chapter 35

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I reward your trust by not making you beg."

”Where is he?”  
”Outside.”  
  
John doesn’t look concern, which is a relief, I guess. But he seems a bit… different. Of course, he can read me and he smiles.  
  
”Don’t worry, Billy. He feels fine and I’m pretty sure he wants you to go to him.”  
”Why did he want to talk to you?”  
  
I sound jealous, I know that, but my former quartermaster doesn’t seem to care. In fact, he looks softer than usual and for once I don’t really mind him patting my shoulder.  
  
”Just some marital advices from someone who’s used to feel weak from time to time. No, don’t ask, it’s between Ben and me, if he doesn’t want to share it. Take him home, make love to him and in the morning, you set the date.”  
”The date?”  
”You know, Billy, sometimes you’re just as slow as my dear clotpole of a husband. As your former quartermaster, I’ll expect some form of invitation before the end of the week. You and Ben have been so used to call each other husbands, I sometimes forget you’re not wedded yet. Now borrow one of Max’s horses and take Ben home.”  
”Why would we need horses?”  
”Not horses. _Horse._ _Take_ your man home, Billy. I’m sure Max would agree with me on this. And now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m gonna ask my husband to take me home before my leg kills me and I make a Dufresne stomp on my own head. Good night, Billy.”  
”Good night, John. And thanks.”  
  
My former quartermaster – and in more than one way my savior – gives me nod and goes back to the table. Charles gives me an encouraging gaze from his corner. I guess that’s it. I turn around, fetch the horse and leave the inn, to meet you as you’re leaning against the wall. You look both skittish and defiant, almost like an animal that can’t decide if it’s safer to stay than run. Tired, a bit confused and… yes, frighten. When you look up to meat my gaze, I use my most calm an neutral voice.  
  
”Come husband. We’re leaving.”  
”Who’s horse is that?”  
”Max’s. We’re borrowing it.”  
”Why?”  
”Riding, of course. Jump up.”  
  
Your eyes are very much questioning this, but you don’t talk back. Just frowning a little before you sit up and you most certainly snorts when I get up behind you and take the rein. We leave the inn and the town in trot. I don’t want to make anymore conversation of any kind with other people than you tonight and I choose a detour back home, more hidden.  
  
We don’t talk, you go a little more relaxed against me. You’re tired and I lay an arm around your chest, holding the rein in my free hand. It’s like we’re playing a game. A game of control, but more than that: trust. It takes a huge effort from you to let me take the lead without question. I know the words, the questions and fear that you fight to hold back. The part of the deal I can’t help you with. You know, just as well as I, that the very moment one or both of us feel this arrangement isn’t beneficial to both of us anymore, we’ll cast it aside. In the end, I guess it’s all about trusting love. The one you love. And right now that trust costs you more than I want to know.  
  
But I feel it. You’re forcing yourself to trust me, without any words or physical bonds from me. I hold you, yes, but I’m not restraining you. If you wish to, you could easily jump off and take your leave. Of course, I could follow you on horse or foot, but you know I wouldn’t do that if you truly wished to be left alone. I will only take charge if I know you’re too confused and tired to decide for yourself, but I could never  - would never – force you to do anything that could cause you real pain. Discomfort, yes, but I’d rather let the sea take me once and for all, before I hurt or humiliate you on purpose.  
  
Feeling the amount of trust and will-power it takes for you to fight back your ghosts, feeling the war inside your body and mind on the boarder to my chest, the tension and fear being forced back with an unimaginable strenght is just mindblowing. And it’s me, not you, that releases you. I reward your trust by not making you beg.  
  
”We’re going back home now, sweetheart.”  
”Good.”  
  
I get my reward too. A light kiss on my chin, the first spot of skin your lips meet when you turn and your lower back relaxes for the first time since we sat up. A voice inside me is screaming about who the fuck is actually in charge here when your now completely relaxed back and pelvis become one with my hips, following the horses movements without any more control than it takes to prevent you from falling.  
  
TBC


	36. Chapter 36

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What haven’t you sacrificed to make me yours…

I’m not allowed to speak ill of myself. Can tell how it feels, but not let it take over. Not blame myself. Not talk back to you when you correct me. _You’re not weak, not disfigured, not ugly and you’re not going crazy, Ben. You’re my strong, beautiful man and I love you. Every part of you, every moment spent with you is the only treasure I desire. All I see before me now is beauty, inner and outer and there’s nothing I wouldn’t do to make you happy._  
  
The words you whisper in my ear aren’t new to me, but they never cease to amaze. The gravity they bare that makes it impossible for me not to believe you. It would’ve been easier if I could accuse you of lying or exaggerate, but I know you don’t do that. Whatever I believe, _you_ know that you’re telling the truth as you know it and I’m unable to defend myself against it by hiding behind false accusations.  
  
You help me off the horse. Not that I need help, but fuck this, I’m just simply too overwhelmed with everything that happened, not only tonight, but from the very moment I first lay eyes on you. I’m tired, but not in my body. It’s my head that screams for rest, now that my body seems to accept and come over the huge gap between cutting a man’s throat and give yourself over entirely to another. So I let you lift me down in your arms, your strenght is not a threat but safety.  
  
”Make a fire, honeybee. I’ll see to the horses.”  
  
_Honeybee_. I nod. Don’t trust my voice enough right now to use words. The cats greet me inside and I rake out the cinder from the stove, add new wood and get a fire going. When you come inside you have the water barrel with you, sparing me the walk to the bay. Didn’t even realise you took it and that simple gesture – usually I bring the water in the evenings – pushes me over the edge.  
  
Can’t remember the last time my tears weren’t caused by a nightmare, panic, shame or loneliness. I’m squatting by the fire, have just made it big enough to get it going for a while, with hands grey from the cinder over my face, crying like a child. At least I imagine it’s like a child. Never cried much as a lad, even less since I became a man and when it’s happened, it’s always been connected with painful memories I’m unable to control when I’m too tired or scared. Raging hunger, loneliness or hallucinations crawling up on me when the last one of my now dead crew mates, Edward Wolf, was taken from the cage and I lost the last friendly pair of eyes I knew.  
  
This love you show me, so ordinary the gestures, even invisible to others, leaves my heart, my mind and soul shattered. The things you did to drag me out of my loneliness, pull me closer, give me comfort and make me free… I can follow them like a trail of footprints in the sand, untouched by the waves. The way you helped me to get my strenght back, giving me a safe place to crash and rest from judging eyes, letting me be weak and then reach me your hand, bringing me to my feet again every morning. The night not forgotten, but never in charge, every day a little less dark. How every touch from your hands, every word from your mouth, every look from your eyes directed to me bares nothing but love. _What haven’t you sacrificed to make me yours…_  
  
”Ben…?”  
  
The water barrel left next to the cinder box, your feet bare as mine. Feet that once bled from running and searching for me. They had to restrain you to stop you from running until passing out in the step. You love me with your very existence. Every waking moment is filled with that love in different forms and now I realise that it’s not what you give that scares me, but the fact that I don’t see what I have done to deserve it, or how I could ever give you the love _you_ deserve. And two strangers punished you for giving it and me for accepting it. A love that I didn’t know I was even capable to feel for another human being. That I couldn’t imagine anyone to bare for me. I was stunned when you let me rest my dirty, ragged head against your shoulder in the cage. Now I know the depth of that care, a love that would have you carry me in your arms until your feet give up, in a grip letting me go only when your breath leaves you.  
  
And now that love makes me cry, makes me weak, so weak in your arms as you wait for my tears to dry. The patience flooding over you, reaching me from everywhere our bodies meet right now and all I want is for you to reclaim what once was yours. For me to take what you offer without fear or shame. The freedom it lies in not being alone in taking charge of a shattered mind anymore. When I’m not strong enough, you’ll walk for us both and all you ask in return is for me to let you carry me. How is _any_ man not to yield to that…? I can’t stand the distance anymore. Not any of it. I just wont have it and I tug my shirt, drag it off me and forget everthing about who’s in charge. I simply _must_ have you. Feels like I’m gonna loose something of myself if I can’t have you right now.  
  
”Billy… _Please…_ ”  
  
Please what? I don’t even know yet, but I’m so sick of being afraid, of shiver from fear instead of lust and I have no idea how to get over it unless you take over. I’m angry, no, _fucking furious_ of what’s been taken from us.  
  
”If I’m not fucking weak or disfigured, ugly or disgusting, than make me feel I’m not! I can’t fucking stand this, Billy… not being yours completely. I feel _incomplete_.”  
”Ben, my love… Sweet husband, calm down. Just tell me what’s wrong.”  
”This! This is wrong! That we’re not together for real yet. I… I _want you_ and I’m so fucking scared…”  
”Hey, hey… Hush, sweetheart. Ben, look at me.”  
  
You have blood on your clothes, as have I. Your eyes are calm, your hands around my face gentle.  
  
”Look at me, my love. There… Now, take a deep breath and try to tell me what you need, husband. No rush, no worry. Take your time…”  
  
My forehead against yours. Hands that could never do me harm, tears you would spend the rest of your life drying if necessairy. I don’t want anymore tears… I want to see you smile.  
  
”There’s… there’s a part of me that still believes _her_. I don’t remember how it felt to have you in every way anymore, Billy. You understand? It’s as if it’s… wiped out, by her. By _him_.”  
  
The memories are still open wounds, maybe they’ll never fully heal and that’s what scares me more than anything. That when I finally say ”I do”, I’ll still be unable to give me to you in full. Your face turns soft, so very soft and your voice bare no fear. Non at all.  
  
”Ben, if you want me to, I’ll help you to get rid of them. Both of them. They’re but ghosts, my love. I know they cause you pain, and it pains me to see it, but we need to get them out of your mind completely. You know I’d never lie to you, so I wont say it’ll work as we hope, but all we can do is try, right? If we don’t dare to try, then they’ve won.”  
  
I shiver and you take your shirt off, pulling me close for body heat. Your legs go around my waiste in a sitting position that locks me softly on the floor. Your knees against my back, your mouth on my neck. You plant kisses all over my shoulders, my neck and throat, nibbles my ear gently, making me pant. You’re humming, rocking me slowly until my nape goes softer. When some of my tension is gone, you kiss me. It’s all very slow, your tongue is brushing over my theeth and tongue, your lips stroking over mine, nibbling and playing for long minutes, turning into deep kisses and then back again to the shallow ones, leaving traces all over the side of my throat. When you reach the spot right behind my ear, I let out a moan, to which you respond with a gentle bite.  
  
”I’ve longed so long for this, my love. Days and nights, all those lonely nights without you…  How do you want me?”  
”Don’t make me decide, husband…”  
  
I’m scared. Not for you, but for how I will react to your touch. If I will remember what I wish to remember and forget what I wish never had happened. Your legs and arms are around me, closing out the world in every possible way. Your mouth covering my shoulders, my arms and hands with kisses, the stubble on your face scraping a little against my skin. Inch by inch, you’re reclaiming what’s yours. Taking what I want to give. Walking with me through the horror I feel for not knowing what’s left to offer you. When you get to my trousers I rest my head on your shoulder, holding on to my own hair, forcing my hands not to take control and just let you come back to me.  
  
You’re devouring me again. There’s no other way to describe it. Your hands, your mouth… gentle fingers, tickling tongue wiping out one more layer of the memory that pains us both. Released from the fabric, I push against you, we’re both so hard already and you meet my silent plead by lowering me down and take us both in hand, but it’s not enough this time. I want more, need you more and I don’t know what I say, if I say anything, but you’re rising, taking me with you and caring me to bed. You’re laying me down so gently and soon your mouth is searching it’s way down between my legs and I shout as the soft, wet heat is consuming my cock.  
  
It’s so good I tug your hair too hard and you moan a little, stroking my hand to make me loose the grip a bit. And then you take me completely, making me shiver and bite my own fingers to release some tension. Your tongue circles aound my cock, lapping my balls and I curse, moan and pant like a savage, my back curving and rocking on the mattress. Your hands are coming down under my ass, squeezing my buttocks and suddenly, your mouth leaves my cock, your hands are pushing up my ass and just as I think I know what’s next, you raise your head, looking right at me.  
  
”Can I…?”  
”Yes! _God, yes!_ ”  
  
It’s been so long, I’m not prepared for the sensation you’re providing me with. I just scream, incoherent syllables leaving my mouth as my body opens up for your dulce tongue, brushing my skin in long, wet strokes. I’m leaking all over my stomach, your hand is smearing the wetness on my skin, petting me everywhere it reaches and I let out a whine as the tip of your finger is moving down to your tongue.  
  
”Oil… we have any oil?”  
”Wait…”  
  
I don’t want to wait, still afraid an unwanted memory could sneak up upon us, shattering our world to pieces again, but you find the oil quickly and it almost makes me cry to see you pouring it in your palm, slicking your fingers as if all these months of horror, sadness and pain are all behind us. You lift my hips gently on your thighs and then you’re brushing soft, too soft, against my hole, making me push against you to get what I want. One, two, three slick fingers making me shiver from pleasure and when you reach the sweet spot, untouched for so long, I buck up and scream, hips undulating and when you lean down to kiss me, I think I feel tears on your face. One, maybe two, and you’re moaning in my mouth, breathlessly and longing, every push from me making your lips tremble.  
  
You’re leaking so much, my stomache is a mess of precum and you’re so hard, the tip of your cock swollen and glistening and I need it inside me, need you to bury yourself in my body, now, now. You pour more oil into your palm, slicking your cock and working me with your fingers until I groan from eagerness.  
  
”Jesus, Billy, the fuck are you waiting for? For fucks sake, put it in already, _ferposa_!”  
  
The first, very careful push makes my body lock up and you lean down, catching my mouth in a kiss, blue eyes locking my own, fixing them in a tender gaze, mouth talking so softly.  
  
”Look at me, husband. It’s me, it’s Billy and we’re not strangers to each other. I love you, you love me, my darling man…”  
  
Words. So much sweetness, so much love and care from your lips, carefully making me relax and open, inch by inch. I curse in your mouth – you’re fucking huge! – but the slight discomfort has turned to slow pleasure within seconds, promising more, and suddenly I’m clenching around you, begging you to move as my legs entwine around your waiste, pulling you closer and you’re finding the sweet spot as if we’ve never been parted, making me moan and squeak everytime you hit it. It’s so good, like nothing else in the fucking world, and I don’t even care that we wont last long, don’t think you care either, seeing your eyes trying to keep open as you’re speeding up and starts working my cock with a slick hand.  
  
The moment you work me over, the sensation come so fast and strong, I loose my breath. You’re so deep inside me, I’m squeezing around you, making you moan from the friction and your hand, warm and oily tugs my cock, your thumb stroking the top seconds before I come hard in long pulsations over your hand.  
  
TBC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Progress... progress everywhere and we're getting a little closer to the end. Just a little :)


	37. Chapter 37

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Every morning when I wake up beside him, I feel a little stronger, a little safer."
> 
> Going forward for real now. Even setting a date...

I don’t understand it at first. The feelings this arrangement brings up inside me. They confuse and upset me, make me feel ashamed and conflicted. But not enough to call it off. He asks me everyday and I’m not allowed to lie. _Are you comfortable with this, husband?_ That rule unlocks my tongue more than anything. _Don’t make me decide, husband…_ And he doesn’t force me to.  
  
Every morning when I wake up beside him, I feel a little stronger, a little safer. He doesn’t enjoy to have power over me, he’s not that kind of man. No, for as long as I’ve known Billy Bones, I’ve never once seen him dwell in power over others. To him, being in charge has little to do with pleasure and everything to do with responsibility. He rarely take part in bigger companies or touches other people in a teasing or even brotherly way, and that’s not because he has me, but it’s not in his nature to do so. In that way, he reminds about Flint. As if there’s a constant weight on him, and I know more than well that has mostly been the case for many years. He doesn’t like the power itself, it’s only a tool and if it doesn’t bring him satisfaction, he’s just a likely to step back and let go. The reward for having me obey him, is to see me take pleasure and comfort in it.  
  
Because I do so very much. My posture has changed. Not much, I doubt it’s visible to anyone but Billy, but we both feel it, take notice without commenting it. How I bow my head just the slightest when I stand close to him and show my longing for closeness with almost shy bodylanguage. How much faster any tension leaves me from a single, possessive look or touch from him. It takes almost a fortnight from the moment we became one and whole as husbands again, before I begin to realise that I don’t only accept this arrangement as a necessity to erase the long and very painful distance between us, but I’m actually craving it. I don’t want it to end.  
  
That discovery is enough to scare me shitless, because it doesn’t make any sense to me. Why would I want to give up my freedom like this for any other reason than to be stable enough to let go of my fears? I should long for the day when I no longer feel the urge to obey. It’s not about the fucking. We both enjoy to give and receive about just as much, it’s only a question about the currant mood and lust and has very little to do with who’s in charge outside bed. That, in combination with the painful memories from my captivity, where I was punished for being a _receiver_ , for allowing myself to be protected, loved and taken care of by another man, is confusing.  
  
And as the days in obedience pass by, I realise that the last missing part of me isn’t about my body, about sex or even physical contact. It’s about giving in to his will without feeling umanly, weak, scared or ashamed. I’m not so stupid that I imagine the woman’s lot in marriage is to be envied. Being left to the mercy of men having the _legal_ right to treat you as they wish has nothing to do with my desire. I’ve showed both Billy and myself that I’m not weak, that I’m not all controlled by ghosts from the past. I no longer loose sense of reality in a way that cause us pain. The memories still haunt me, still make me scream, cry and curse my life from time to time, but it’s managable now. And nothing helps me better, than allowing myself to be obedient, submissive and depending.  
  
I crave the submission, it makes me whole, so I beg him. Beg for him to decide, to possess, to dominate me with words, looks and touches. I’ve already reclaimed my body for myself, but I want him to take it back too. In full. And he meets my request, my longing and frustration with the only thing I know he can: _I’ll do it as long as I know for sure it makes us both happy._ This isn’t something I can ask him to do only for me, but for some reason I don’t doubt that he’ll agree to this. I know my husband _very_ well. To have someone opening up to him this much, asking for his protection and care, without any hidden agenda is what he craves more than anything.  
  
For too many years, he was the one constantly being put aside and overlooked by people that didn’t understand his motives or value. Ironic smiles, harshness, efficiency and a care for others that made his crew look up to him, Flint taking him for granted, Gates underestimate him and Silver misreading him. As if he wasn’t to be taken seriously. Well, at least Flint and Silver understood how wrong they were. Gates, unfortunately, never did. I never met the man who was about as close to a father figure as one could be to a seventeen year old, newly released slave who’d lost his parents. One time I asked Billy what he thought Gates would’ve said about us being matelots and he laughed a little. _Actually, Ben_ , _I think he’d say something like: ”That’s about bloody time, lad. Now you’ll have less time brooding about things you should stay out of. Just keep your focus in the riggings and keep any chivalry between you all private. And make sure he eats a little extra when you’re on shore.”_  
  
Pirate, thief, murderer and an enemy to the civilized world. Friend, lover, husband and liberator. He loves his freedom, loves to see me free and so he accepts that right now, for an unknown time, maybe the rest of our lives together if that’s what makes me whole and happy, I need to give it up. In every way.  
  
There are days when I act in a way that would make a slave, a small child or a captivated whore seem independent. I obey his every command, his every wish, give in for every touch and it releases him too. Now, for the first time ever, he has an opportunity show just how much he cares without fear of appearing obtrusive or being rejected. I love to obey him, but also testing him. We have no settled rules about consequences when I disobey or my feelings get out of hand. It’s a risk, but the point of this whole arrangement is trust, and even thou it’s a more difficult way to reach it, it also feels much more complete.  
  
It’s a calm, early night when he says it. We’ve had supper and I’m sitting on the backporch, carving on a stool he managed to fuck up completely for some reason. As skilled as he is with hunting, fishing, knife and sword grinding, rigging and bricklaying, just as non-existent are his carpenting skills. I didn’t even know it was possible for a man who was voted bosun in his early twenties, to be this useless working with wood. I give him an exasperated look when he comes out to me.  
  
”Could you _please_ promise me not to ’fix’ another furniture on your own?”  
”It’s not _completely_ useless.”  
  
My glare makes him laugh and his eyes glitters.  
  
”Is it really that bad?”  
”To put it like this: I don’t know if I’m to be impressed over your ability to manage this long without any carpenting skills at all, or screaming in frustration. How is this even possible, _ferposa_? You were a bosun for how long? Six-seven years? And then quartermaster and bloody first mate. How did that happened?”  
”I’m pretty…? They always vote for the prettiest man, right? And, speaking of lack of skills, you can’t mending sails. Or climb the rigging. Or ride a storm.”  
”Well, you can’t make buns.”  
”And you… you… well, you put too much cinnamon in them!”  
”What?”  
”Yeah, you absolutely do.”  
”And you didn’t tell me this until now…? And you’re still eating them? Suit yourself or make your own.”  
”I don’t know how to bake.”  
”You want me to teach you?”  
”Nah. I like being served.”  
” _Pooch me hame_!”*  
”I’d love to.”  
  
He sticks his tongue out and gives me a teasing smile, while moving the tip of his tongue as if he was down on me. The blush on my cheeks pulls the sweetest laughter from him and his blue gaze suddenly goes urgent.    
  
”Marry me, Ben. For real.”  
”Whenever you wish, love.”  
”Should I set the date, then?”  
”Have been waiting for it…”  
”A fortnight? Down by the beach, with only our closest friends?”  
”The people that helped saving me… saving us. Yes, I would love that.”  
  
He get to his knees and pulls me close for a kiss, holding both of his hands around my face and when he lets go, he stays where he is, just looking at me as if I was the only man in the world for him. And I guess I’m finally beginning to understand, for real, that I am. That there’s no point in questioning or fighting this love, neither now or henceforth. I lost and I’ve never felt richer. I obey and have never felt this free.  
  
TBC  
  
*kiss my ass


	38. Chapter 38

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The "asshole pirate husbands" to the, well, not rescue, but wedding gift planning :) (And yes, thewalruscaptain, I know you can picture exactly how John Silver sounds and looks when he says "Good Lord, James..." I put it there for you, babe) <3

”I don’t understand what you’re up to.”  
”I figured you wouldn’t. You want tea, husband?”  
”Yes, please. But what, may I ask, is all _this_ about? And why should Billy stay here for three days?”  
”Oh my _lord_ …”  
  
John shook his head and filled James cup with the apple tea he’d bought from Ben. It was a lovely morning and for once, John had been up early, making breakfast. To be honest, it wasn’t very hard even for the worst cook that had ever sailed with James Flint or James McGraw, but John was still a bit proud of his efforts. First he’d ran over to Ben and Billy, knocking on their bed chamber window. Billy had just grunted and pulled the blanket over his head, but Ben, who was up early, opened and when John left he had a basket with freshly baked flatbreads, a small pot of Governors Plum marmalade and a very tiny jar with honey.  
  
Ben almost looked guilty when he handed it over, explaining he didn’t want to empty the pot too soon, since it had been a gift from Billy that he’d traveled miles over the island to get: _I know he’ll set off to get me another pot and refuse to let me pay for it as well, the damn gentleman, so I want to prolong it until he’s a little less, you know, airy-fairy…_  
  
John smiled to himself as he spread butter and honey on the flatbread. James still looked suspicious.  
  
”You didn’t answer my question, dear husband. Why is Billy staying here?”  
”Because, dear husband, he’s about to get married in less than four days and the wedding gift Max has in mind, requires that Billy and Ben leave their home for a little while.”  
”But why can’t they stay at the inn, both of them? Or here.”  
”Good _Lord_ , James… And you accused _me_ for being unromantic. I shouldn’t even have to explain this to you.”  
  
James frowned.  
  
”Well, you’re gonna have to, because this seems rather suspicious to me.”  
”It really isn’t.”  
  
John took a sip from his cup. The tea was really good.  
  
”Idelle and Max came up with a plan for a wedding gift, apart from that fine booze. Billy’s and Ben’s house is, to put it mildly, not the most cosy place. I mean, half of the furniture are either half broken or have gunshots in them. Not to mention cracked china, an uncomfortable bed and no way near enough shelves for all of Ben’s pots.”  
”How do you know their bed is uncomfortable?”  
”Well, as you may remember, I spent some days and nights there, trying to watch over Ben while he was more than a little insane, and I’ll tell you: that mattress aint honeymoon material.”  
”So your plan is to keep the turtledoves separated, break into their home and redecorate it?”  
  
John gave his husband an exasperated look and decided to use his most annoying ”let me explain this to you with words easy enough for you to understand” voice.  
  
”No, my dear husband. We plan on asking for the keys, painting their cupboards, replacing their back torturing mattress and fill up their stock of firewood, spices and other things I know _you_ would whine about if you were short of them. They don’t wish a big wedding party and I doubt they’ll go for a honeymoon trip so this will be a gift from all of us.”  
”All of us?”  
”Yes, _all of us_. Vane and Anne will do some carpenting, Jack is to help Featherstone with the painting and Max and Idelle will make their wedding clothes. They’ve already made curtains and the marital cover for the bed.”  
”I see. And in the meantime we’re…?”  
”Having a nervous groom in our house who’ll most likely be impossible to get a sensible word out of.”  
”They’ve lived together for a really long time and things are, as far as I know, very good between them and they’re certainly not strangers to each other. What’s there to be nervous about?”  
”So you say you weren’t nervous on our wedding night?”  
”That was a different situation…”  
”Really?”  
  
John looked at James with a little harder gaze than he’d first anticipated. His husband’s face got a slightly painful expression and he reached for John’s hand. They both had their share of tormenting memories, of wounds and painful moments time would never fully heal, but that didn’t matter. No life lived in full would be whole and undamaged. Everything worth living for was in the end all of it things that could leave you shattered. James stroke his husband’s hand.  
  
”You were no more torn than me, John. It was only a different wound, that’s all. We both had our reasons to be nervous, if that’s the right word.”  
”And so have Billy and Ben. I don’t mean to describe either of them as saints or even civilized men, but the way they’ve suffered, James… All that shit, the slavery, captivity, torture, fucking _rapes_ and then Ben’s madness, the death threat and Billy leaving. If that’s not atonement enough, I don’t know what is!”  
  
John sounded upset now and James left his chair to embrace him. His husband sighed against his chest.  
  
”We’re giving them the wedding, the home and the fresh start they deserve, James. Billy doesn’t care much for domesticity, but Ben does, and if Charles Vane of all people can be talked into domestic work for the sake of his old lover’s husband, I’m sure that lover’s old Captain and Quartermaster wont show any less enthusiasm. Right?”  
”Of course not, my love.”  
  
James kissed his hair.  
  
”You’re such a sweet man, husband. If people only knew…”  
  
TBC


	39. Chapter 39

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "How many marriages have you heard of that went through such things and didn’t end up just a little shattered?"

Hate to admit it, since I know this is all part of a wedding gift, but living separately for days before the wedding isn’t very appealing at all. I’ve developed a protectiveness I’m not sure is good in the long run and I don’t like the idea of being separated from you for a minute longer than necessairy. I somehow manage to completely ignore the fact that I actually left you alone for more than three months, despite you were feeling far from well – what kind of husband does that? And how are you gonna manage on your… _Oh, for fucks sake, Billy Bones! Stop it! You should slap yourself for thinking of your husband like that!_  
  
I’ve been back for so long now, a part of me seems to forget that I ever left. Pathetic. I have absolutely no right to whine over the fact that we’re to be separated for a little while, since I’m soon to be your husband not only in my heart, but officially. But I’m still annoyed. You notice my irritation while you put a clean shirt and the eucalyptus oil together with a little gift for your hosts, some fresh bread and a new tea mixture, in a small bag.  
  
”What’s the problem, love?”  
”You have everything you need?”  
  
You raise your eybrows.  
  
”Um… yeah, of course I have. I’m going to the _inn_ , honey, not on the account.”  
  
Yes, you’re staying with Idelle and Max and I’m to live at James and John. I don’t know who’s idea this was, what exactly our friends will do here in our absence or why they insist you and I are to be parted like a young couple being chaperoned by their folks while courting. It’s ridiculous, but it would be impolite to refuse a wedding gift from our friends and rescuers. Apparently, my irritation is very visible, because you sigh and give me a kiss.  
  
”It’s _three days_ , Billy, and I’m not leaving until tomorrow morning. You’re afraid I’ll get second thoughts if you’re not around, or what?”  
”Of course not.”  
”Afraid _you’re_ getting second thoughts? I mean, three days with James and John might scare you off the married state…”  
”Not unless I have to marry one of them.”  
  
You put the bag down, put me on a chair and sit on my lap, stroking my hair.  
  
”What is it then, sweet husband?”  
”How are your muscles?”  
  
_Avoiding the question, love?_ No, you don’t say that, but I can tell that’s exactly what you’re thinking. You press a soft kiss on my temple.  
  
”They’re fine, love. Idelle will help me out if the neck decides to give up, alright? Is she allowed to help me, or do you want to supervise, to make sure she doesn’t hurt me?”  
”Don’t be silly.”  
”Alright, I wont.You still have a little time before I’m not to obey you anymore, so this is your chance. It’s been a pleasure to obey you, husband, but if you’d like me to _disobey_ a little before tomorrow, just for practice…”  
  
You have an impish smile on your face and I can feel how I’m beginning to blush. You’re absolutely mesmerizing right now and you know it. But the feelings it stirs up inside me are confusing. How could I tell you that I wish nothing but to hold you in my arms, carry you on my shoulders and protect you from the smallest rock that could make you stumble, without sounding like a complete idiot? Your smile turns to a concearned expression.  
  
”Billy… sweet husband, why are you crying?”  
”I don’t know…”  
  
Didn’t even know I was, and you writhe your arms around me in a soothing embrace.  
  
”We’re not leaving each other, Billy. It’s all bad memories that comes back to you now, nothing else. You know that too, don’t you?”  
”Yeah… I’m sorry, this is so stupid.”  
”Hush, my love. It’s alright, you can cry. You’re not stupid. We’ve been through so much. Much more than any of us actually thought we could survive… How many marriages have you heard of that went through such things and didn’t end up just a little shattered? Right now, despite all that’s happened, I’m happier than I’ve ever been or thought I could be.”  
”God, Ben…”  
  
Your words, so calm and assuring, make me crash like a wave against rocks. _You’ve shed enough tears for me. Enough for a lifetime._ That’s what you said one time, but I’m taking you and no other for better and for worse in a few days and thou I hope there will be less tears and more laughters in the rest of our lives together, you know as well as I, that happiness is always fragile and all we can do is try. You kiss my tears away.  
  
”Three days from now, and we’ll never be parted again, Billy. Where you go I will go, and where you stay I will stay. Where you die, I will die and there I will be buried. Nothing but death itself will ever seperate us again. The Bible isn’t all hate and punishment.”  
  
You look so absolutely certain, no weakness in sight and pull you close for a deep kiss that stirs up feelings we really don’t have time to take care off right now and when our lips finally part I’m blushing. You laugh.  
  
”Look at us, Billy! Two of the feared pirates and liberators of Nassau who’re responsible for Charles Vane still striking fear in England and Spain, for making a fearsome ghost story of John Silver, overthrowing Eleanor Guthrie and organizing a society for pirates together with two former whores and brilliant strategists, one of them sitting on a fortune of Spanish gold. We’re to be wedded instead of executed for our love and who the fuck cares about what we’re called by others. I give you this promise, my love: never again shall anyone have the power to make any of us believe we’re something we’re not. _Never again._ ” __  
  
I’m stunned. I’ve been so used to protect, to decide and to worry, that I’ve forgotten about your strenght. My tears are dried now and I devour your mouth in another deep kiss. I’m lost for words, but that doesn’t matter. Your words are mine too and nothing but death will ever separate us again.  
  
TBC  



	40. Chapter 40

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wedding preparations... :)

The one place in the house where no men will ever enter. That’s how Idelle and Max use to call their private quarters and Idelle makes a dramatic sigh when she opens the door.  
  
”There goes it’s virginity…”  
  
Ben looks more than a little amused.  
  
”And what, exactly do you call what’s going on between your and Max’s sheets?”  
”Domestic harmony, Ben. My dad, missed by noone and mourned by even fewer, always said that a girls virtue was safe only in the company of other girls.”  
”And you wouldn’t speak against your father, of course.”  
”Exactly. I’m an obedient daughter. Well, as long as it suits _me_ , of course. How do you like your little virgin quarters?”  
”Apart from the fact that it’s more than fifteen years since I could be called a virgin, and that I still don’t know why you insist on this arrangement, it’s lovely.”  
  
Idelle likes men who’re comfortable with sweet words in other situations than fucking, or trying to get a girl to fuck. And Ben is a very sweet man, indeed. It’s good to see how healthy and, most of all, happy he looks these days. Idelle casts a glance over the room to see it’s all in order: the bed, the wardrobe, the screen and basin.  
  
”This is all part of a little wedding gift to you and Billy, Ben. From all of your friends.”  
”I’ve figured that one out, but I’m not sure about what you’re planning and to be honest, Billy was little worried when I left.”  
”He’s afraid we’ll turn your house into a tasteless brothel inside?”  
  
Ben smiles.  
  
”No. He just doesn’t want us to be parted for so long.”  
”Oh…”  
  
Men usually don’t have the capacity to make Idelle cry these days, but Ben and Billy are of a different kind. Not because they fuck men, but for that overwhelming but discrete love they bare for each other like it’s printed in their very bodies. Their friends have seen that love and it’s obstacles in many different shapes now and that’s why they’re making such a fuzz about the wedding gift.  
  
”Good morning, _mon cher_.”  
  
Max appears in the doorway and gives Ben a warm smile he returns.  
  
”Good morning, _ma chéri_. I guess you wont tell me either exactly why I’m here?”  
”Not unless you want me to ruin your wedding gift, love.” She turns to Idelle. ”So, _ma chérie_ , you got the fabric?”  
”Fabric?”  
  
Ben’s puzzled face expression only makes the two women smile and Idelle goes behind the screen and fetches a pile of different textiles: brown calico, green striped calico, white silk, unbleached linen and dark blue velvet. Ben looks a little horrified and Max laughs.  
  
”Don’t worry, _mon cher_ , we won’t dress you up like French noble and have your fiancé faint before you reach the altar.”  
” _Thank you_.”  
”But it wouldn’t hurt to wear something more classy on your wedding day, _non_?”  
”No, but wouldn’t it look a little strange if I’m all dressed up and Billy’s in his old clothes?”  
  
Idelle laughs.  
  
”You didn’t think we’d only force _you_ to dress up a little, honey? Oh no, our feared Billy Bones has no more say in this than you, Ben.”  
”You wouldn’t refuse a wedding gift from your friends, now would you, _mon cher_?”  
  
Ben throws a helpless look on Max’s content face and then on Idelle, who’s smiling with her arms crossed. He just shakes his head and roll his eyes.  
  
”I have no say in this, right? And neither has Billy?”  
”Correct, Mr. Gunn. Now, if you could just get behind that screen, undress and throw us your clothes so we can do the measures, you’ll get them back sooner and get rid of our annoying company much sooner, so we can get to your fiancé.”  
  
Ben grins.  
  
”You’re actually going over to him and take his measures for wedding clothes?”  
”Of course, _mon cher_.”  
”He’ll refuse, you know.”  
  
That comment only makes the women laugh and Idelle gives Ben an amused look.  
  
”Exactly _who_ do you think rule Nassau these days, Ben? Flint and Silver?”  
  
Max and Idelle laugh again, as if the thought of Flint and Silver ruling anything is the funniest they’ve heard in years. Ben decides it’s time to stop questioning them and to be honest, the thought of these two quite petit women taking measures on his husband while he’s grumbling and cursing, is _very_ amusing. Ben goes behind the screen, undresses and throws his well-worn clothes over before covering himself with a blanket.  
  
” _Mon cher_ , this is no good. We need to meaure your body too. These clothes hangs a little loose on you.”  
”Can’t it be done without that?”  
  
The voice behind the screen is slightly uncomfortable and Max and Idelle exchanges an understanding look. Idelle clears her throat.  
  
”Maybe you could do some of the measure yourself, Ben? I give you the ruler, paper and feather to write the measures for us.”  
”Yeah… that’d be better, I think. Are you sure you’re putting Billy through this too?”  
”Definately. Don’t worry, he wont be able to escape this anymore than you.”  
”Well, that’s a relief… I guess.”  
  
TBC


	41. Chapter 41

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aaand more wedding preps. This time with thewalruscaptain's beloved asshole pirate husbands <3

Since getting off the account, James had almost forgotten how annoying his former first mate could be – and how exhausting it was to have him and John in the same room for an extended period. Billy was touchy and nervous, and John’s slightly teasing comments about nervous grooms _really_ didn’t help. The nervous groom was irritated – and perhaps a bit worried – the very moment he went through the door and the state seemed to increase by the hour, so James decided to take drastic measures.  
  
”Billy, come and help me with the supper.”  
”Supper?”  
”Yes, Billy. Supper. You know, what we call the food people eat in the evening. Heard of that?”  
”Well… I can’t cook.”  
”You can’t be worse than John.”  
”I heard that, James!”  
”I know and I don’t care, dear husband.”  
  
John appeared in the kitchen door, looking all but amused and James tried to look innocent.  
  
”What?”  
”Oh, nothing, my love. I was just listening to your proclamation on how you’re going to sleep on the floor for a month or so, and how _desperately_ you longed for my glaced, half cooked pig for supper for about the same period of time. And as your obedient, loving and caring husband, I just can’t say no, now could I?”  
”It’s not my fault you can’t cook.”  
”Careful, Captain…”  
  
Billy’s comment, however amused, had James blush a little and John’s eyes glew with discontent.  
  
”Billy.”  
”Yeah?”  
”If I were you, I wouldn’t take any marital advice from James. At least not if you want to keep your husband in your bed.”  
”And if I were you, first mate, I wouldn’t listen too much to your former quartermaster, since we all know how much he lies.”  
  
Billy just shook his head.  
  
”Captain, you seriously can’t expect me to answer that headless comment. And not to ruin the high spirit in here, but maybe you should think about what happened to the last one accusing Long John Silver of lying. Oh, right… you weren’t there when he stomped Dufresnes head. Pity. T’was a sight to be seen…”  
”Exactly who’s side are you on, Billy?”  
”The one that’ll put me through three days and nights with you two and without my husband, without me going berserk. And if you’re trying to make the married life look unappealing, you’re succeeding.”  
  
James looked a little sour. And to be honest, he felt that way too.  
  
”What’s that suppose to mean?”  
  
Billy sighed.  
  
”Oh, please! We’re not on a ship, or at the tavern or at some godforsaken council meeting. You don’t have to act like a domestic version of Flint and Long John in front of me. I’m nervous enough as it is. Just… be your usual hopeless selves, for fucks sake.”  
  
John smiled a little.  
  
”Well, Captain. I believe the first mate is above the quartermaster in line, so I wont protest.”  
”No, you’d rather backstab your captain.”  
”I can stab your back later, captain. Low, deep and…”  
”For fucks sake, John!”  
”Husband!”  
  
Billy’s and James’ exasperated faces had John laugh and his mischievous eyes glittered.  
  
”You two are just the most silly men I know. You’ve been on the account for years and you still blush over fuck talk. Jesus… ”  
  
James snorted.  
  
”If anyone’s sleeping on the floor tonight, it’s you.”  
  
John quickly leaned into his husband by the stove, were James tried to keep an eye on the baked ham, and twinned a long, dark curl while slowly biting on it and looking at the ”enemy of all christian nations” with big, blue eyes and eyelashes just a little lowered. Billy coughed.  
  
”Please tell me you know when you’ve lost, Captain. And turn that ham before it gets burned.”  
  
The two master manipulator’s home was very comfortable and far, far more… female, than Billy’s and Ben’s. Or, female maybe wasn’t the right word. Perhaps English noble suited better, Billy thought as he looked at the drapes, paintings, stuffed chairs and pillows. The kitchen was only half separated from something James referred to as the ”living room”, with another fireplace, fragile tables and cabins with glass doors, filled with books, fine liqour, wines and strange, brown little things in glass jars.  
  
”It’s chocolate.”  
  
Billy turned around to John, who leaned against the wall with a smile on his face.  
  
”Choco-what?”  
”Chocolate. Cacao mixed with sugar and cream.”  
”I’m not much for sweet food, actually. Oh, except for Ben’s cinnamon buns, of course.”  
”Try one.”  
  
Billy opened the jar and put a small piece in his mouth. John let out a laughter at his face expression.  
  
”I take it that you liked it.”  
”Holy _shit_ , this was delicious! Where did you get this?”  
”James made them for me.”  
”He did? How?”  
”Bonny and Rackham came over a prize some weeks ago and this, or not exactly this, but this kind of things were in the cargo. Apparently, Bonny and a couple of other members of the crew, got absolutely delighted. Rackham claimed Bonny’d not smiled this much since he killed her second husband, so he questioned the whole crew for the recipe, under pain of death. Worked _very_ well.”  
”Anne killed them once they got the recipe, right?”  
”Only the ones that didn’t fear her enough, which I think was fair. She has a reputation to defend, you know. When they came back, she let me taste a piece of the cargo and then I had to use all my charm and a pretty scary amount of money to get a copy of the recipe. James wasn’t happy with me.”  
”Until he tasted it?”  
  
The toothy grin was answer enough and Billy threw an interested glance at the jar.  
  
”Is it possible for me to buy any of that from you? It was really very good and Ben would love it.”  
”Maybe…”  
”Fine, just say what you want from me?”  
”Oh, I don’t know… A kiss, perhaps?”  
”You’re evil, quartermaster.”  
”You didn’t notice until now? Come now and help me take the tub in.”  
”The tub?”  
”You didn’t think we’d let you get married reeking like a whole tavern?”  
  
Billy threw an exasparated glance at James, who layed the final hand at the ham. The ginger rolled his eyes.  
  
”Can’t help you on this one, Billy. John, Max and Idelle are at least three people too many for me to fight against.”  
” _At least_ three?”  
”You should know by now that John counts as two when he really want something. No point in arguing, Billy. Just do it.”  
  
TBC  



	42. Chapter 42

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jacob Garrett appeared in the doorway, carrying a bunch of parcels.
> 
> ”Special delivery to the couples armoire.”
> 
> Vane rose his eyebrows.
> 
> ”You’re bringing them bullets?”  
> ”Not armory, Chaz, armoire.”
> 
> _________________
> 
> Preparing wedding gifts can, as I discovered, be quite fun :)

”Fucks sake, Chaz! You’re suppose to fucking fix that door, not babysit cats!”  
  
Anne gave the feared captain a glare as she kept grinding the bedpost. Charles had taken a break, squatting by the old bed where the cats were playing with each other. Jack, who was painting the cupboards, thou honestly painting himself almost as much, snorted.  
  
”Oh well, I guess some people could live of their reputation a little longer than others, Anne. Maybe we should name our next ship _Domestic Vane_ , to show our support?”  
”Fuck you, Jack!”  
  
Vane grunted from his position by the cats and Anne smiled at Jack. By the windowsill, Featherstone cleared is throat.  
  
”Jack, I hate to tell you this, but you’re dropping painting on the floor. And if Charles is done with playing cat mother, he could keep fixing that door, if our beloved wedding couple aren’t supposed to celebrate their wedding night in an earshot from the entire Nassau.”  
”Hello there!”  
  
Jacob Garrett appeared in the doorway, carrying a bunch of parcels.  
  
”Special delivery to the couples _armoire_.”  
  
Vane rose his eyebrows.  
  
”You’re bringing them bullets?”  
”Not armory, Chaz, _armoire_.”  
  
Jack washed the painting from his hands and went to take a look at Jacob’s parcels, with eager eyes.  
  
”Unpack them in the chamber. We’re done with the painting in there.”  
  
Jacob grinned.  
  
”Wash up a little more before you touch them, or Max will kill you. Slowly.”  
  
Anne looked disgusted.  
  
”The fuck did she bring them? Silk and satin?”  
”Among other things, yes.”  
  
Vane and Anne exchanged exasperated looks and Vane shook his head.  
  
”If this was for James and John, I could find some fucking sense in it. Maybe, but only maybe, if it was for Ben only… No, actually not. He may be a fucking little housekeeper when it comes to food, but this is just stupid! Are you having laced nightcaps and whore slippers with you as well?”  
”Watch it, Charles! We like whores, so don’t offend them.”  
  
Anne’s glare shut Vane’s mouth quickly and Jack chuckled.  
  
”I’ve seen Charles take great pleasure from silk sheets and soft pillows on numerous occasions, as well as you, my love, so why not leave the comments to the wedding couple and _keep working_!”  
  
Vane and Anne looked at each other again an then went on with the door and bed. Jacob rose his eyebrows.  
  
”No ’fuck you, Jack’?”  
  
Jack snorted.  
  
”I’ll live on this moment for the next ten years if I’m lucky enough to stay alive. Alright then, Jacob, let’s take a look at the parcels.”  
  
The small house was going through a quite remarkable change the days before the wedding. Since moving in, Billy and Ben hadn’t thought so much about more than the essentials: a functional fireplace, a table and some chairs, cupboards for food and a little porcelain and shelves for teas and spices. A bed, an old wardrobe with what little clothes they had tossed inside in a messy pile and a thin rag for the chamber window, that almost looked like a curtain if you were generous.  
  
The whole place felt, to be honest, a bit sad, maybe due to some of the events there, but nontheless it wasn’t eaxctly the most appealing place for a newly wedded couple to spend their honeymoon. While Ben and Billy spent some days, feeling both nervous, a little irritated and anxious, at separate places, their walls were painted in white, their cupboards in blue and a new bed with a luxurious mattress, soft feather pillows and an embroyded wedding cover were brought there from the inn.  
  
Idelle didn’t only use the measures for the wedding clothes – and of course Billy had absolutely nothing to say in the matter – but also to make the couple some more every day clothes, ’cause honestly, some of their rags were ”a disgrace to the pirate society”, as James and Jack pointed out. Soon, the shelves in the re-painted wardrobe were filled with shirts, trousers, some belts and a couple of jackets and coats, all made in simple fabric and discrete colours. The only exception to the simplicity was the wedding cover in dark, blue velvet, backed with white elderdown filled silk and covered with embroyderies in silver. It was nothing but exquisite and even Charles couldn’t help but sending a sightly impressive glance at the bed when Idelle and Rackham spread it over the silk sheets.  
  
Max had sent a whole bunch of candles and holders, together with a new dresser with brazen pulls to put under the chamber window, now clothed with a blue curtain. A basin and a decanter stood on the dresser and a mirror hung on the right side of the window. Vane and Anne both looked horrified as they saw it and even Rackham seemed to be a little hesitant. Only Featherstone nodded in approval.  
  
”Now we’re talking.”  
”It looks like Max’s!”  
  
By Anne’s tone, it was not a compliment and Vane just went out, murmering about _fucking domesticity, the disease called civilization_  and _”I should take them with me on the Ranger to escape this”_ , but Idelle looked pleased.  
  
”Now, that’s what I call a room fit for a wedding night. You didn’t forget the vial, Max?”  
”The vial?”  
  
Rackham looked puzzled and Anne coughed. Max fetched a quite big glass jar with oil from one of her baskets and put it on a little side table by the bed with a big smile. Rackham blushed.  
  
”Alright, ladies, this is getting far too intimate for my taste.”  
  
Vane just rolled his eyes.  
  
”Oh, please, Jack! You’re fucking Anne and Max. Max is fucking Anne, I’ve fucked Billy, he’s fucked me a numerous times and I’m quite sure Featherstone is fucking Idelle.”  
  
Both Anne and Jack looked at Featherstone and Idelle with questioning faces and Jacob seemed very amused. Idelle sighed.  
  
”What is it with you two? I’m not tied to Max like some puppy. Christ… Are we done here now, or are we supposed to have a discussion about our fucking habits standing in Billy’s and Ben’s bed chamber?”  
  
The cats, Ember and Ardour, who had watched the changes with greatest suspicion, entered the room and jumped up to lay on the wedding cover. Rackham let out a laughter.  
  
”I think at least two of the residents are happy with this. Now, let’s get out of here before Chaz or Anne mess up something.”  
”We’re clean!”  
”Haven’t touched a thing, Jack!”  
”No, but that’s because we’ve only been done since a quarter of an hour or so, and I believe that’s the longest we could expect any of you to be in a room without at least staining it. Everyone, let’s get the hell out of here and we did a bloody good job.”  
  
Before anyone could talk back to Jack, Max raised her voice.  
  
”Please, no shouting. You’re all having dinner at our place tonight if you should wish. My treat and maybe we’ll bring out something extra for our effort. Now, let’s move.”  
  
TBC


	43. Chapter 43

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "By this time tomorrow night, he’d be a married man, husband not only in his heart, but to the name as well. He looked at his left hand where another ring was to be put. He looked at the almost invisble patterns on the shirt. His wedding shirt…"

”How is he?”  
”A little nervous, but otherwise perfectly alright. Stand still, love, I can’t do the stitches if you’re squirming like a fish on land.”  
  
Idelle was standing on a stool, making the finishing touch on Billy’s wedding shirt. Simplicity was the theme even here, according to the unspoken yet well-known wishes from the wedding couple. Yet Billy’s shirt sleeves still had just some extra stitches, just a slight shade different from the fabric, in a small but elegant pattern. The blue troursers were simple, but the new black belt had embroyderies in silver and the jacket, grey as Idelle suspected anything more colorful would be rejected, had buttons in silver. Idelle took a step back and nodded.  
  
”I think we’re getting somewhere. Now… where are yur boots?”  
”Um, right in front of me?”  
”Oh no, not them, dear… Ah, by the wardrobe, of course… Almost thought I’d forgotten them. Now, put them on, darling.”  
  
Dressed in entirely new clothes and boots, Billy looked suspiciously at the mirror and Idelle smiled.  
  
”Well, what do you think of that man?”  
”He looks… neat.”  
  
Neat and nervous. The clothes were perfect, actually. Simple, not at all ostentatious but just sligtly more elegant and much more clean and whole than he was used to. A man in his wedding clothes. He was about to get married. By this time tomorrow night, he’d be a married man, husband not only in his heart, but to the name as well. He looked at his left hand where another ring was to be put. He looked at the almost invisble patterns on the shirt. His wedding shirt…  
  
”Oh, Billy… Come here, honey.”  
  
Idelle. One of the people without whom this wedding would not be taken place. And here Billy stood, crying over the stitches she’d mad on his wedding shirt, hugging her tight and wetting her hair whith his tears. Idelle patted his back.  
  
”There there, darling… You look beautiful, my dear and trust me, so does your husband.”  
”Don’t know if I could ever thank you enough, Idelle… Wasn’t it for you…”  
  
More tears and Idelle was grateful Billy could let them fall in her hair, instead of his new clothes. She hold the man tight, somehow wanting to ask for forgiveness from all the worlds whores for what Elaine had done to him and Ben. It was absolutely illogical, of course, but in all her life, Idelle had never seen anything comparable to the love Billy Bones had for Ben Gunn. It had grown so slowly, the struggles and emotions hidden so carefully from others, that Idelle first wasn’t sure of what she saw between them. Her first memory of them showing they belonged together, was a night by the inn when she went out for some air, and saw them share a hug.  
  
Nothing that normally would caught her attention, but the way Billy hold Ben, slowly stroking his shoulder as if he was comforting him, talking with a voice filled with nothing but deepest care and tenderness, changed the whole picture. Men embracing each other was one thing, but that had made Idelle stare. The quite blunt, all serious and not even flirtatious while drunk Billy Bones, using a soft voice, pulling a nervous and frighten Ben Gunn close in a firm embrace and whisper soothing words to him, was more evidence than Idelle actually needed. And now she was standing tip toe on the stool, letting Billy cry in her hair. When the giant seemed a little calmer, Idelle patted his back and withdrawn a little to look at him, relieved to see he was actually smiling.  
  
”I’m sorry, Idelle. Think I’ll better get out of these before I destroy your beautiful work.”  
”Nothing to be sorry for, love. You have every right to cry. God knows you’ve fought for this day… Now, dry your face and be careful when you undress, while I get you something to calm your nerves. And don’t worry, it’s not opium.”  
”What is it then?”  
”One of your sweet husbands delicious pastries and a cup with mulled wine. I know you’re all strong and mighty men, but trust me, the evening is a bit chilly and no one ever wants a snotty-nosed spouse on their wedding day.”  
  
While Billy was tended to with soothing wine and pastries and a hot bath – because it wasn’t likely Ben would appreciate a dirty husband by the altar – and, as Idelle pointed out, it had a very good effect on his edgy nerves, his soon to be legal husband, had been put through a similar treatment at the inn from Max. John, who was there in an arrend concearning a missed button in Billy’s trousers, met Ben in Max’s quarters while waiting. The blonde man with wet hair didn’t look half as nervous as his fiancé and no one who saw him now, could see any trace of the shadow he’d been only some months ago. He smiled when he saw John.  
  
”How’s Billy holding up?”  
”As most grooms, I guess. Nervous, irritated and teary-eyed.”  
”Poor man…”  
”Oh, don’t worry. Idelle’s there and you know she won’t allow any nonsense.”  
  
John sat down on a chair, resting his leg and looked at Ben with soft eyes.  
  
”You know, as stupid as it might sound, I was fucking terrified. Not at my wedding, that’s another story, but at our betrothal. You remember that night?”  
”At the ship, yeah. Didn’t talk to any of you before the whole ceremonial thing was over, but I remember Billy being a little on the edge.”  
”Of course he was, since he’d be the one to take care of things in case either his captain or his quartermaster fucked things up.”  
”Well, you didn’t. Neither of you did.”  
”No, and that, as you may recall, we most certainly have Billy to thank for. He was running between us for days, making sure we didn’t fuck up or freak out. We’ve had our problems, Billy and I, but Nassau, our crew and most of all me and my husband have him to thank for a lot of things.”  
”We all have…”  
  
Ben’s blue eyes had lost most of their painful shade, but to John it was still very visible. It took one to know, he supposed, and all four of them, Billy, Ben, James and himself, had gone through some quite horrible things. But Ben was right. To be honest, they didn’t only have ”a lot of” things to thank Billy for, but most of all their lives. Ben bit his lip.  
  
”You know what the most difficult thing, living with Billy is?”  
”No.”  
”That it’s impossible to make him think badly of me. Sounds stupid, I can’t really explain it…”  
”No, I think I get it. We’re all crooks in Nassau and to an outsider, Billy is as bad as any of us. If we’re counting dead bodies, raids and attacks on the civilization, I bet only James, Charles and Anne are his equals. But in some strange way, Billy never really strike you as very dangerous, since he’s always had a weak spot for revenge.”  
”Revenge?”  
”On things he sees as unjust. As long as he knows what you’ve suffered, as long as he can understand your motives even if he doesn’t necessairly agree, he’ll understand. That’s, I guess, what James never quite realised. Billy was so young when he was rescued, I somehow believe James could never really disregard the fact that he wasn’t a boy anymore. In his mind, Billy will in some way always be that starved and bruised kid he rescued from the navy… Happy to have a place in the world and a bit sully when things doesn’t go his way.”  
”But nothing more…”  
”Well, I’d say James understand things a little better nowadays, and so do I. But apart from me and James, Billy’s never been interested in power or a greater, more personal and in the same time more all-encompassing revenge. Billy wouldn’t start a war against England if they took you. No, he’d cut himself through the empire, Englishman by Englishman, silent and not asking for company. Bottomline is, Ben, that if I lost James or he lost me, we’d live on. Of course, we’d be even more horrifying than now, but we’d still live, if not for pissing off England.”  
”But Billy wouldn’t?”  
”I don’t think so. When you were taken, Ben, I didn’t realise how much you meant for him. I felt ashamed for not understanding, not recognizing the depth of his feelings for you. He’s never been even close to that passioned about anything or anyone before. It was as if he’d been robbed of his very soul… You could tell that no matter where you were, he’d find you, in one way or another…”  
  
John hadn’t meant to be this personal, but Ben didn’t seem to take any offense. Far from it. He was teary-eyed, his lips were a little parted and he sat very still in his chair but his gaze was soft.  
  
”Guess it’s too fucking late for me to escape, then.”  
”Probably, yes. I mean, he wont drag you to the altar if you don’t want to, but he’ll hunt you until you give him an explanation and then, if I know the two of you right, you’ll eventually end up by the altar more certain than ever.”  
”You think so?”  
”The way you love each other? Definately. And even if I didn’t, I’d never let _him_ escape from his wedding when he didn’t let me escape mine. He’s not the only one with a weak spot for revenge.”  
  
TBC


	44. Chapter 44

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well... this is the second last chapter and it's A LONG ONE, seen from different perspectives. Both the "omniscient" storyteller's, Billy's, Ben's and some of their wedding guests. Only fluff here. Seriously, it's so much fluff I almost feel a bit pathetic, but here you go: let's celebrate a wedding <3

**_Billy_**  
Nervous, they say. Sure, I can let them think that. Or, if they actually don’t think that, but say it because they believe it’s the best way to handle me right now. I don’t mind, really. Without them – any of them – this wouldn’t happen. Ben would be dead and I… _Oh, God, stop it!_ No tears now, Billy. He was returned to your arms, not once but twice. You’re about to get married in not half an hour, the sun has began to lower and it’s a beautiful evening. What’s the matter with you? Have you lost you ability to handle emotions with anything but tears?  
  
I suddenly realise I don’t know who’ll be performing the ceremony. I have actually no fucking idea who’ll ask me to take Ben for my husband and I panic.  
  
”Billy! What’s the matter now?”  
  
Charles. Thank God.  
  
”Who’s marrying us?!”  
”What?”  
”The ceremony, Charles! Who the fuck’s doing the ceremony?!”  
”Max of course. Who else?”  
  
He says it like it’s obvious and as the worst panic disappears, I realise it actually is. Charles looks at me with the face I know only two people in the world have seen. Me and Eleanor. But it’s not the look of a lover, but of someone who loves you deeply, as a brother, a friend, maybe even some kind of family. He takes my face between his hands and gives me a kiss on my forehead, one on each cheek and then a shallow, but warm kiss on my lips. His smile is barely visible, but his eyes are filled with love.  
  
”You look just as sheepish as a groom should do, Billy. No, don’t speak, darling, save your voice for the altar and listen to your old friend, captain and lover.”  
  
He holds my hands, caressing them a little with callous thumbs.  
  
”You know I wont be holding any open speeches, and I think both you and Ben are grateful for that, since you know I’ll probably only end up saying something about how much I hate curtains and Flint anyway. Not that I actually hate either, but you get the point. We both know I’m the last person to give you any marital advice, so I wont, and I wont tell you to take care of your husband, because I already know you will. I only have one thing to say.”  
”And what’s that, Charles?”  
”Allow yourself to be happy, Billy. I know this sounds stupid, but I know you better than you think. I know how easy it is for you to forget you’re not alone, darling. Ben’s learned to give himself over, right?”  
”Yes…”  
”Now you have to do the same, in whatever shape it’ll be. In full.”  
  
So many people are mistaking Charles for a brute. He’s blunt, unpolished, sometimes very brutal and no one who’s seen him at a dinner table would ever accuse him for being civilized. But apart from Ben, I’ve never known a human being with a heart as big and honest as his. Charles presence calms me enough to make me laugh a little at my earlier outburst and when I blink my eyes, he strokes his finger over my cheeks.  
  
”That’s better. No more tears before the vows, Billy, or I’ll have you keelhauled.”  
  
I laugh.  
  
”What would I do without you, Charles?”  
”Let’s hope we never have to find out. Now, are you ready? I believe it’s time to go.”  
  
***  
  
_**Ben**_  
”Captain?”  
”Yes?”  
”Slap me.”  
”Excuse me?”  
  
Flint is looking at me as if I was asking him to stick a blade in me, and John sighs.  
  
”I’ll do it.”  
  
One. Two. Good. At least I don’t look so pale anymore and I smile at my former quartermaster.  
  
”Thank you, John.”  
”You’re welcome. And if my husband would’ve remembered his duties as your Captain, he should’ve said ’let’s go’ by now, but he doesn’t seem to be very quick today.”  
”Careful, husband, or I’ll put you over my lap later.”  
”Sorry, _what_?”  
  
I seriously doubt that was for my ears, and by the very deep blush on John’s cheeks, I think he doubt that too. But I don’t have time for their nagging right now and I silence them before they have a chance to make a quarrel.  
  
”Please, _please_! As much as I love and value you both, I _beg_ you not to have this conversation now. No talkbacks, no glares, not even a snort before I’m through this.”  
  
They just nod and James gives me one of his rare smiles.  
  
”Out of all things coming out of that storm, a Scottish husband for Billy was the last thing I expected.”  
  
We laugh, all three of us and then James turnn serious.  
  
”I want you to know, how truly happy we are for both of you. The crew has been the closest thing to a family for any of us in many years, and most of all for Billy. I guess you know him far better than any of us, despite the fact many of us have sailed with him for many years, and you’ve already lived together for so long it’s hardly necessairy to give you any marital advices.”  
”And besides, I’m not sure my dear James and I have many good advices to give, anyway. Marriage is still pretty new to us.”  
  
John’s smile is warm when he looks at James and I realise I’m witnessing something very few people know any of these two extremely dangerous men are even capable of feeling. As much as most people will never see what Billy and I feel for each other by looking at our public behavior, most people wont see anything but witty talking, brilliant scheaming and a constant battle for power between James and John. Some things are just meant to be shown only when you’re laying in the arms of the one who holds your heart, naked in the dark.  
  
***  
  
**_The Storyteller_**  
The steps in the sand can’t be heard from the sound from the ocean. Two men are approaching each other. Alone. The sun’s started to fade now and the taller man has it’s rays in his eyes, peering at the shorter man. The taller man’s heart, that’s been beating insanely for most of the day, is all calm now as he reaches the shorter man, taking his hands.  
  
It’s the most beautiful man in the world, he thinks. The bright blue eyes are practically beaming and the taller man blushes, feeling like a fool for reacting like this, but he can’t help himself. He falls to his knees, kissing the strong, callous hands and the other man lowers himself, squatting before him and presses a gentle kiss on his hair.  
  
They stay like that, without talking, for a little while. Just pulling themselves together for the moment that sometimes seemed to be so far away it’s hard to understand it’s finally here. Then the shorter man leans to the taller man’s ear, whispering even if no one can hear them and the words aren’t even a secret: _I love you_. The small whimper he gets in return makes him smile. The taller man can finally be weak again.  
  
They rise slowly, brushing a little sand from their clothes and facing each other, fingers entwining as they turn to the direction of the flickering light just a couple of hundred meters away. Then they start walking.  
  
***

 ** _Charles_**  
It’s painful. Seeing so much beauty, knowing it wasn’t for me, for us, is fucking painful. I have no regrets, no doubts what so ever, but seeing them like this, still hits a nerve. They’re walking hand in hand and he has that look in his eyes I saw even at the rescue, when they saved me from the noose and as soon as he knew I could manage, he searched for _him_. If it had been closer to our time together, or our ending had been more difficult, I might have been jealous but all I could think of later, was how fucking beautiful he was when he had eyes only for _him_.  
  
The man I once shared my bed with will never cease to amaze me. Compared to him, most men will draw the short straw, but he wants to settle, I’ve known that for years. A proper pirate with a proper home and a proper husband. Yes, seeing them facing Max, stunning as always in her satin dress, with me on Billy’s and Idelle on Ben’s side, in some way presenting families long gone, is very painful. And so, so beautiful.  
  
***

 ** _Max_**  
”Dearly beloved, we are gathered here tonight in the presence of God to witness and bless the joining together of this man and this man in Holy Matrimony. Into this holy union Billy Bones, in another world and time known as William Manderly and Ben Gunn, in another world and time known as Benjamin Gunn now come to be joined. If any of you can show just cause why they may not lawfully be married, speak now; or else for ever hold your peace.”  
  
_I, a former slave and whore, now the ruler of Nassau, performs a ceremony the so called civilized world will consider evil. But the two men kneeling together in the sand, eyes only for each other, surrounded by their friends are nothing but a true celebration of love…_  
  
”I will now read to you from the book of Ruth. _And Ruth said, intreat me not to leave thee, or return from following after thee: for whither thou goest, I will go; and where thou lodgest, I will lidge: thy people shall be my people, and thy God my God. Where thou diest, will I die, and there will I be buried: the Lord do so to me, and more alos, if ought but death part thee and me_.”  
  
_Don’t need to look at Idelle now, to know she’s crying. Wasn’t I so determined to spare my tears until after the ceremony, I might too, seeing how you swallow, breathless as if you still can’t believe this is happening…_  
  
”Do you, Billy Bones, in another world and time known as William Manderly, take this man, Ben Gunn, in another world and time know as Benjamin Gunn, to your lawfully wedded husband?”  
”I do.”  
”And will you love him, comfort him, honor and keep him, in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all others, be faithful to him as long as you both shall live?”  
”I will.”  
”Do you, Ben Gunn, in another world and time known as Benjamin Gunn, take this man, Billy Bones, in another world and time know as William Manderly, to your lawfully wedded husband?”  
”I do.”  
”And will you love him, comfort him, honor and keep him, in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all others, be faithful to him as long as you both shall live?”  
”I will.”  
  
_Looking at your, our, friends here. Harsh, brutal, all but sentimental men and women, asking them to bare witness of your love and all I see is more love…_  
  
”Will all of you witnessing these promises do all in your power to uphold these two persons in their marriage?”  
”We will.”  
”The rings. Speak after me. I, Billy Bones, in another world and time known as William Manderly.”  
”I, Billy Bones, in another world and time known as William Manderly.”  
”Take you, Ben Gunn, in another world and time know as Benjamin Gunn.”  
”Take you, Ben Gunn, in another world and time know as Benjamin Gunn.”  
”Now to my lawfully wedded husband.”  
”Now to my lawfully wedded husband.”  
”From this moment on until I draw my last breath, I will love and cherish you and no other, and tend to your every need with my utterly devotion.”  
”From this moment on until I draw my last breath, I will love and cherish you and no other, and tend to your every need with my utterly devotion.”  
”My body, heart and soul will forever be yours, and I will defend you with my life as I trust you to defend mine.”  
”My body, heart and soul will forever be yours, and I will defend you with my life as I trust you to defend mine.”  
”This ring I give you as a token of my perpetual love. May I never give you cause to regret your decision.”  
”This ring I give you as a token of my perpetual love. May I never give you cause to regret your decision.”  
  
_Your vows, I’m glad I had time to prepare them, because it’s enough seeing Idelle, Featherstone and John cry… And you, Ben Gunn, have only eyes for your man and he for you when he puts the ring on your finger._  
  
”Speak after me. I, Ben Gunn, in another world and time known as Benjamin Gunn.”  
”I, Ben Gunn, in another world and time known as Benjamin Gunn.”  
”Take you, Billy Bones, in another world and time known as William Manderly.”  
”Take you, Billy Bones, in another world and time known as William Manderly.”  
”Now to my lawfully wedded husband.”  
”Now to my lawfully wedded husband.”  
”From now until death takes me, I’m yours in everything, your burdens are mine to bare and your tears are mine to dry.”  
”From now until death takes me, I’m yours in everything, your burdens are mine to bare and your tears are mine to dry.”  
”My care, my trust and my love belongs to you and no other and wherever you go I will follow, as I know you will forever stay by my side.”  
”My care, my trust and my love belongs to you and no other and wherever you go I will follow, as I know you will forever stay by my side.”  
”This ring I give you as a token of my perpetual love. May I never give you cause to regret your decision.”  
”This ring I give you as a token of my perpetual love. May I never give you cause to regret your decision.”  
  
_And now you’re crying too, Billy Bones, as your man gives you your wedding band… Fuck, even Rackham is crying!_  
  
”By the power vested in me by men and women of the free world, I now pronounce you legally husbands. May you always stay true to your vows. You may kiss, should you so wish.”  
  
***  
  
**_The Storyteller_**  
_No more tears before the vows_. Well, Vane hadn’t said anything about after them. The two husbands sealed their vows with a gentle kiss, tears streaming down their faces, in fact down everyones faces and the only one trying to hide them, was Anne Bonny with Rackhams arm tight around her and the hat putting even more of her face in the shade than usual.  
  
The kiss, sealing the vows, was not one of great passion, but more of stunned happiness and relief. John was given a handkerchief from James, Idelle cried openly and Featherstone tried to use his handerchief in gentleman like manner, of course failing completely and ending up sobbing on his cravat. But when the newly wedded husbands finally looked up, smiling bright like the sun, the one catching their eyes was the brute to the right, using his bare hands to wipe the tears off his face. Vane then looked at Max who gave him a slight nod and he left while the others gave the couple their best wishes. When everyone had kissed the couple, Vane came back with a horse – and a quite teasing smile on his face.  
  
”Your ’carriage’ awaits. We had an argue about this, Silver and I, but I got the final word.”  
  
Ben, who’d done his best to stop crying, smiled widely.  
  
”You threatened him, right?”  
”Only a little.”  
  
Vane grinned and Billy laughed through his tears.  
  
”Thank you, Charles. You’re a true friend, saving us from a carriage.”  
”Yeah, I figured it’s not a fucking funeral and you’re not travelling in coffins, so…”  
  
Ben kissed him on the cheek and sat up, while Billy planted a kiss on Vane’s forehead and then sat up behind his now lawfully wedded husband. Vane nodded in the direction towards the fort.  
  
”You will ride to the fort, but take your time.”  
”The fort?”  
  
Billy looked a little puzzled and Vane smiled.  
  
”Don’t worry, it’s all been very well organized. Be there in an hour and wait outside the gates.”  
  
The newly wedded husbands nodded and then the horse went off in slow walk down the beach.  
  
***  
  
**_Idelle_**  
”Is it all done, girls?”  
”Yes, madame.”  
”The fish, the meat and the cheeses?”  
”Yes, madame.”  
”The wine is aired?”  
”Yes, madame.”  
”The ale and cider chilled?”  
”Yes, madame.”  
”And the bread?”  
”Baking in this minute, madame, and will be done within minutes.”  
”Good. Very good work, girls. I’m pleased.”  
”Thank you, madame.”  
  
Idelle looked around the tent. Max had picked it out and it was very suitable for the purpose. Since it was a fine evening and neither the inn, Billy’s and Ben’s house or James’ and John’s were suitable for a wedding feast right now, this part of the fort served the purpose very well.  
  
The tent was hardly a tent, but more of a fabric roof firmly attached on poles and open on all but one side, the headend of the longtable where it was set with finest silver plates and cups, linen napkins, vases filled with flowers, candlesticks and piles of fresh fruit, a various amount of cheeses, fresh butter and cold smoked meat and fish in thin slices. Idelle nodded to herself. It was all in good order and she went to Joji, the silent man who was one of the men keeping guard this night. He nodded at her.  
  
”Everything went well at the ceremony?”  
”Yes. It was very beautiful.”  
”Good. The gifts from the crew are put in their place. Silver took care of it and placed it somewhere in their house. Tell’em the crew send their best wishes.”  
”Were they disappointed for not being invited to the celebrations?”  
”No. We all know Ben’s not comfortable with crowds, not even people he knows, and no one in the crew wants to make him feel uneasy on his wedding night. No, we’ll have our celebration by the beach. Captain Flint opened the rum storage for us, and we’ll have enough roasted pig to feed half of Nassau. A treat from Billy and Ben, bless them lucky bastards… We’re taking terms with Vane’s and Rackham’s crew for guarding, so you can all get fucking wasted tonight.”  
  
***  
  
**_John_**  
He’d never been to a wedding except his own, and to be honest John didn’t remember much of it, since he’d been far too occupied with staring like a sappy idiot at his groom, but he was most certain _these_ preparations were fit for even English noble. The table was loaded with fresh food and luxorious drinks, beautiful flowers and expensive cups and plates. An extravagance the common men could only allow themselves in a small part of the world, free from the so called civilized boundaries. He leaned heavily on his good leg.  
  
”Husband? Are you in pain?”  
  
Normally, he’d been irritated at James for taking notice of his injuries in public, but this wasn’t really public. They were among friends and Max quickly showed him to a chair so he could rest his leg. James kissed his hair and John snorted.  
  
”Isn’t it a bit impolite to sit down before the wedding couple?”  
”Not if you have a good reason.”  
”You call this _good_?”  
  
John was clearly in pain and James removed his metal leg.  
  
”Thank you, husband.”  
  
They were all gathered now. Anne had taken her hat off, much to Jack’s surprise and happiness – and then, just before the sun went down, two men on a horse entered the yard. Billy sat down and then, making his husband blush, promptly took him in his arms, grinning like a happy thief before putting him down. Max and Idelle approached them with a tray with four cups. Everyone by the table had already got one – but no one drank yet, of course – and once the wedding couple had taken their cups, Max rose her cup.  
  
”To the grooms, Billy Bones and Ben Gunn.”  
  
Champagne, John thought, as he tasted the wedding toast. Champagne that was supposed to be served on a noble wedding. He smiled at his former first mate and his husband, who still looked as if they weren’t sure of what had happened. John could hardly imagine a better occasion to drink this exquisite drink, than at a wedding mocking everything wrong with England’s view on love and marriage.  
  
***  
  
_**The Storyteller**_  
The feast was a calm one, but filled with greatest happiness. Still being a bit shaky from all the tension and the ceremony, the wedding couple didn’t talk very much at first. They smiled, shared toasts, blushed a little from speeches – for once free from more dirty parts, since the gathered friends thought it was a bit early for that kind of jokes considering what the couple had been through. Eventually, the food and wine loosened even Ben’s and Billy’s tongues a little, and they engaged in light talking with their guests, but they still never went far from each others side. Instead, their friends shifted places by the table, so they all could have a moment with the couple.  
  
When the guests, apart from Max and Idelle, had gone a bit drunk and the wedding couple once again had little words left for others, Max decided it was time to let them slip away. After all, this was their wedding night, they were tired and they’d been away from each other for three nights. The horse was still saddled and Anne Bonny, who had stuck with a little less strong drinks, kept her eyes on the couple. They didn’t know it, but their first night as legal husbands, still had a little surprise before they were left to more intimate company. A slight nod from Max had Anne rise discretely, whispering a little to Rackham and recieving a kiss before she disappeared in the night like a shadow.  
  
Charles, John (who's pain had gone away for now), Featherstone, Jack and James were all engaged in a very lively conversation about what England should pay in order to be left alone. The debate was indeed very lively and they didn’t notice how the wedding couple left the table, thanking Max with smiles. The ruler of Nassau smiled back and then turned to the feast company, providing them with more rum while Billy and Ben sneaked away in the night.  
  
TBC


	45. Chapter 45

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I confess I find more ecstacy in passion than in prayer. Such passion is prayer. I confess I pray still to feel the touch of my lover's lips. His hands upon me, his arms enfolding me... Such surrender has been mine. I confess I pray still to be filled and enflamed. To melt into the dream of us, beyond this troubled place, to where we are not even ourselves. To know that always, this is mine."
> 
> Veronica Franco, "Dangerous Beauty" (1998)
> 
> This is the final chapter... Chapter notes at the end, my loves <3

Billy doesn’t know what time it is. He’s holding the horse and jumping off, taking his husband in his arms, just because he wants to. He’s leading the horse to the pole, tying and unsaddling it. His husband never lets go of him. Not for one moment.  
  
A figure in a big hat is standing at the porch, holding a lamp. There’s light shining from the windows and Anne Bonny gives them a smile that lacks any hint of her usual harshness. Her eyes are warm and she nods at them, opens the door and then leaves without a word.  
  
He does something he most likely wouldn’t do, if it wasn’t for all the dizzy thoughts and feelings surrounding the day, but right now it seems like the most natural thing to do. He lifts his husband and recieves an amused smile when he carries him over the doorstep.  
  
”What the fuck?”  
”Jesus…”  
  
They both just stare, slowly realising what their friends made such a fuss about. Their home is not to be recognized. The previously so miscoloured walls are painted in white, the windows have new sashes in oak and the fireplace, where a fire is going, is cleaned. In the kitchen, the cupboards are not only painted in blue, but filled with new porcelain and the pantry is absolutely stuffed with all kinds of smoked meat and fish, jars with honey and spices, jam and butter, sacks with flower, bottles with rum, pitchers with cider and baskets filled with fresh bread and fruits. Billy just swallows, and his husband shakes his head in disbelief.  
  
”If we don’t watch out, husband, we’re gonna get very, very fat on our honeymoon…”  
”Uh-huh…”  
  
Soft, purring noises from the floor, turns their attention to the two now almost grown cats, greeting their masters – or, as the cats probably see it: their servants – and while nuzzling the furballs, they keep staring.  
  
There are wild flowers in pitchers all over the room, the table is new and much bigger, with an extra tablet, obviously made for baking, and there are enough chairs to have guests. Ben gives away a sound that’s a mix between a cough and a squeak and points at the other side of the room.  
  
”Look at that!”  
”What the…?”  
  
A couch. It’s a fucking _couch_! And a soft carpet and a bookshelf. Filled with books! Billy takes one of them and a muffled sound slips away from his lips.  
  
”Oh, God… It’s _The Ingenious Gentleman Don Quixote of La Mancha_! He read that to me shortly after I’d been rescued. Wanted to re-read it, but for some reason I never asked to borrow it… I didn’t know he remembered I liked it. And look! Here’s Shakespeare’s _Sonnets_ and _Macbeth_ …”  
”I’ll read it to you, husband, I promise. But not tonight.”  
  
Billy leaves the books and turns to the smiling man who’s now his legal husband. The candles flickering light makes his hair shine in gold and Billy entangles his hard, callous fingers in it and leans down to catch soft lips in a devouring kiss. Ben’s legs come around his waiste and he once again take his man in his arms, moving around in circles as if they’re dancing to the sound from the cicadas in the night, lips chasing kisses, eyes only half opened as they move to the chamber.  
  
Ben’s closing his eyes against his husband’s neck. He feels so light in his arms. Not small or weak, but light as a feather, as if the burden of agony, doubts, shame and despair is lifted from him in full. His husband’s heart is beating just as hard as his own, the pulse is hammering against his mouth as he kisses Billy’s neck and another muffled sound from the man makes him lift his head, but he has no words left and neither has his husband.  
  
The walls are repainted in the same white colour as the kitchen and there’s a new, ridiculously big bed where the most exquisite wedding cover in silver embroyded, blue velvet is partly folded, revealing crisp white satin sheets. Candles in stable holders are placed on a new dresser and a wardrobe in oak with one door slightly open, reveals shelves filled with new clothes and bed linen with dried lavendar dribbled over them. Billy carefully lowers his treasure on the bed and sinks to his heels, looking completely stunned. Ben smiles.  
  
”I guess there’s the answer to why we couldn’t stay at home for three days… And why Max mentioned that there’d be ’a different kind’ of wedding gifts.”  
”What they’ve done for us, Ben, is something beyond all I could imagine any friend could do for us…”  
”It is. We wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for them.”  
”And here we are now, legally husbands in our own, fucking luxorious home… Are you sure this isn’t a dream?”  
  
Ben pinches him lightly in the arm.  
  
”You felt that?”  
”Yes.”  
”Then I’m pretty sure you’re not dreaming, my lovely, legal husband.”  
  
He raises on his elbow to bring Billy down on the bed, pulling him gently to the side so they can lie still, just facing each other. Ben’s sure of this, sure of what he wants, and what’s even more important to him: he knows his husband wants the same. He puts his right hand around the taller man’s neck, caressing the hairline as he leans over to kiss him, making him turn to his back ever so softly.  
  
Billy’s fluttering from the attention surrounding his body. The eagerness, the lack of hesitation in the firm, sensitive hands who’re taking the lead. Slowly, they’re releasing him from his jacket, his shirt, fingers walking lightly over his abdomen, stroking the skin. Ben quickly takes his own jacket and shirt off before he lowers down and Billy’s breath is raising a little.  
  
”Oh…”  
  
His husband is planting small, shallow kisses all over his chest and belly, making his blood rush, the hair on his skin stand and he has to restrain himself, letting go of control and not drag Ben down in a hard embrace. Letting go of control… As Ben is slowly taking back what’s his to take for the rest of their lives, Billy’s realising just how unused he is to this kind of attention. The time they had, the time when Ben was relaxed enough to explore as he wished, was short compared to the time it took to get there and the time that has passed since the awful events that almost broke their commitment to each other. To feel how his husband is taking the lead now is the final incarnation of their vows and Billy gives in with all his being.  
  
Ben lets his hands sliding back and forth over his husbands upper body, pulling Billy’s arms back over his head, making him lie fully stretched out on the bed and straddles him but doesn’t lower himself. They’ve been parted for some nights now and Ben has missed him so much these nights he almost feel ashamed. He leans closer, kissing all the way up to the warm mouth and keeps his hips so low they almost touch, but not quite, and waits for Billy to continue. Ben deepens the kiss, chasing his husbands tongue and then Billy can’t stand it, but releases his hands, plants them on Ben’s hips and pushes them flush against each other.  
  
They both moan from the touch and Billy arches a little, instinctively searching for more, for Ben to come closer and have more of him. Ben shows no signs of anything but passion. No fear, no hesitation, nothing that could come between them and he takes his time, making Billy hard, wet and moaning under his touch. He lets him chase his mouth, his hips, his skin for a long time before letting him unfastening their belts and get rid of their trousers.  
  
Billy quickly spreads his legs, making Ben lay between them grinding slowly, almost lazy while once again getting lost in their mouths. The way Billy’s searching for him, shivering and desperate, is something Ben’s never seen before and it’s so beautiful it makes him stunned. His strong, reliable and confident husband gives himself over completely, trusting Ben to provide him with the same comfort and love that Billy’s showed him so many times and Ben decides it’s time for something he knows Billy’s longed for just as much as he has. He leans down to nibble his husband’s ear.  
  
”I want to… want to have you again, husband. Like you’ve had me…”  
  
Billy only moans in response, clutching Ben’s back muscles, fingers almost desperate. He wasn’t sure Ben would feel confident enough, didn’t dare to hope for it yet and the words are releasing a longing Billy’s kept hidden for many months. He’s not one of those men feeling content with one role in bed, he never has. He wants to fuck and be fucked in every way possible with this man with golden hair and he’s missed the latter desperately for so long now. He squeezes Ben’s shoulders, pulling him close again, uttering a single word:  
  
” _Please…_ ”  
  
Carefully releasing himself from his husband’s grip, Ben’s rising and moves forward, thighs now surrounding his husband’s shoulders and Billy’s smiling widely when he realise what Ben has in mind. He rises his head and lets his tongue slide just right over the slit of the head, already leaking and Ben bites his lip as Billy leans forward to take him.  
  
The sight is mesmerizing. They’ve never done it like this before and at first, Ben’s a little worried that Billy might be uncomfortable, but the moans slipping through speaks of nothing but pleasure and soon Ben’s fucking his eager mouth, turning himself to a wet, hot mess of need. When he pulls out, he quickly scoots down to kiss him, to feel the taste of himself in Billy’s mouth, knowing how much his husband loved it, how much ne need to be his again in every way. Ben can feel how desperate Billy is for him, for Ben to have him completely and he leans down to his ear.  
  
”Turn over, love…”  
  
Ben’s making small bites all the way down his spine, making Billy squirm. The bites alternate between sharp and teasing and Billy finds himself uttering sounds he didn’t know he had inside him. He cries, groans, gasps and has to force himself not to grind to much in the mattress, ’cause Ben’s utterly new treatment of his back is pushing him dangerously fast forward.  
  
”Please, husband… Oh, fuck! I’m gonna come if you… Oh, God, what are you _doing_?!”  
”You don’t want me to…?”  
”No, no, no, I want to, _God_ I want to, I just wasn’t prepared for… Oh, _fuck_!”  
  
The bites have turned to shallow strokes from Ben’s tongue over his hole, and Billy’s screaming pitch high from the sensation. It’s so good, makes his whole body flutter and shiver, but it’s been so long and he’s afraid me might come too fast.  
  
”Ben…”  
”Yes, love?”  
”Have to tie it…”  
  
Ben needs no further explanation. He quickly leaves the bed, grabbing one their knives and cuts off Billy’s most thin leather strap around his wrist, tying it around the base of his husband’s leaking cock. When he’s done, he lowers his head and takes his whole lenght in one go and Billy shouts again, trying to muffle it in the bend of his arm. Ben alternates between his cock and his ass, increasing and lowering the pace in a way that makes Billy loose the ability to utter real words. His thoughts are a mess of nothing but pleasure and his cock wasn’t tied, he’d not lasted a minute of this treatment.  
  
Billy’s becoming undone from his touch and Ben has to take a moment just watching his body twitch and turn, the muscles in his stomache moving in waves. His husband’s lost in pleasure, biting his own fingers and Ben reaches for the vial standing on the sidetable close to the bed. He leans down to kiss Billy, and the man is not reaching up this time, but finally relaxing completely against the pillow, letting Ben devour him, knees bending close to his chest as he feels the hot presence of the tongue again. It’s all over the sensitive, puckered skin, sliding teasingly over his hole until he can’t do anything but beg for more.  
  
Ben’s quickly replacing his tongue with a slick finger, working his husband slowly and gentle. It’s been a very long time and he doesn’t want eagerness to destroy the moment. When Billy’s wet and stretched enough, Ben slicks his cock and places himself with Billy’s legs resting on his thighs. The small hairs are standing on the legs, muscles flexing under the warm skin and Ben leans forward to kiss his husband, letting his lenght press gently against the perineum. Billy puts a hand on his cheek, caressing the skin just under his eye with his thumb, looking at Ben with a gaze filled with longing and love. Ben tilts his head a little, smiling tenderly, eyes bright blue and warm on him. Then, a slow push and they’re locked together.  
  
Billy can’t look. The sensation of Ben filling him again isn’t new, but his body’s unused to how good it feels. He raises a leg to rest on Ben’s shoulder, and as he feels him coming deeper until they’re flushed against each other, Ben lifts his other leg too. When they lay in a steady position, Ben leans his right hands fingers between the remaining bands on Billy’s wrists, keeping the hands from touching and starts to move.  
  
Ben’s thrusting slowly, but he’s just as unused as Billy to the sensation and he laughs a little, pulls out halfways and come still while releasing another strap from his husband’s wrist to tie his own cock and Billy smiles.  
  
”Thank you, husband… Would be a shame to end this too quickly…”  
”It really would…”  
  
Pushing forward in a single draw, Ben makes Billy shout again, and he comes close, now thrusting slow and deep while kissing him. It’s an almost lazy pace, and tied or not, it’s not enough to make any of them come, but it feels so good just coming together and Billy’s hole is so tight and hot and pulsing around him, the sight of how it’s clenching and relaxing against his cock is leaving Ben dizzy and every thrust makes him moan almost as broken as his husband, who looks as if he’s lost for the world; a shivering body aching with need from a shattered mind with no intention of taking any control unless he has to.  
  
The sight shatters Ben too and his pace is increasing, Billy’s moans going higher every time Ben’s hitting the sweet spot deep inside him and when Billy’s nothing but a quivering shambles of pleasure, begging for release, Ben quickly unties them, slicks a hand with oil and enfolds his cock, making him come screaming like a mad man, ass drawing so tight around Ben’s cock he can’t move.  
  
He lets Billy come down from the high, kissing the panting mouth softly, caressing his abdomen until the tightness is relaxing a bit and Ben pushes in slow, making Billy hiss and curse before he thrust very hard a couple of times and lets the pleasure take him.  
  
***  
  
They shorter man is spooning the taller man, slowly caressing his stomach as they come down from the high. One cat is sitting on the small table, dangerously close to the vial with oil and one cat has already jumped to the bed, thinking it’s a good place and time to groom herself: the bridal bed on her humans wedding night. The taller man smiles.  
  
”They’re judging us…”  
”Of course they are. We stole their bed.”  
”And I’m afraid it will happen again.”  
”Afraid, huh? Was it so disappointing?”  
”Couldn’t you hear my moans?”  
”Oh, I heard them, husband…”  
  
The shorter man kisses the taller man’s neck on a spot he knows is very sensitive and he recieves a pleased, mewling noice in response. The shorter man entwines their fingers together. The wedding bands are finally in place.  
  
”Did you really think it would turn out this good, Billy?”  
”Honestly?”  
”Honestly.”  
”I don’t know. There were days when I was so certain it couldn’t end up in any way but this, and then there were days when… Well, we’re married for real now and I believe it would be a bad start to lie to your husband on the wedding night… There were days when I thought I’d never be yours again. Days when I was too tired and lonely to hope. I’m sorry if I cast a shadow over this night now…”  
”You’re not. We’ve made our vows now, husband, to be one in all and we’re both too used to pain to let a memory destroy anything. I too had days and nights when I lost all hope and didn’t think I’d ever see you again. So many nights when I feared you’d be alone and wounded, or even dead out on the ocean, far away from me…”  
  
The taller man gives away a small whimper, pulling the shorter man so close it almost hurt.  
  
”Promise me we’ll never allow us to be torn from each other again, husband.”  
”Not by anything or anyone, my love. We’re one now, forever.”  
  
The candles are flickering and before the sweet exhaustion takes them, Billy’s leaving the bed to blow out the candles and open the window just a little. It’s a couple of hours til dawn, and he returns to his husband under the blue wedding cover and pulls him close into his arms, feeling his breath against his chest and burying his nose in the golden hair. When he pulls up the cover over his husband’s shoulders, the man is already sleeping and Billy smiles, murmuring:  
  
”Sweet dreams, dear husband…”  
  
***  
  
Ben doesn’t know what time it is. The pale sun is shining through the thin curtain, suggesting it’s quite early in the morning. He hasn’t slept much thou, but strangely enough he doesn’t feel tired. Nestled in his arms, with the blue wedding cover barely covering his hips, lies his husband, the most beautiful man in the world. His breaths are calm, his posture more relaxed than Ben’s ever seen before. His skin is marked with scars, burnt from the sun and stained with salt from the sea. You wouldn’t believe how soft his hands can be when touching the man he loves, by just looking at them. You wouldn’t know the love he bares for his husband, by seeing the scarred chest raise and lower in his sleep…    
  
By the footend, two cats are laying grooming themselves and Ben chokes a laughter not to wake up Billy. Ember, feeling he’s done with the washing, starts to walk on his humans feet and legs, purring and meowing a little, soon followed by his sister Ardour. They trample around for a while before deciding it’s time for a morning nap and rolls up in a black and red ball of fur, snoring an inch from Billy’s foot. Ben’s still smiling as he goes back to sleep.  
  
***  
  
The sun’s waking him. Ben’s still asleep, nuzzled against his chest and Billy’s very, very carefully releasing himself from his sleeping husband and leaves the bed, followed by the cats. Hunting mice isn’t the first choice of breakfast when you’re used to be fed with fish from Ben’s generous hand and Billy feeds them from the filled stores in the kitchen before going outside for a moment, and then hurrying to get back to bed.  
  
He glances through the thin curtain in the bed chamber and discovers a well-known figure, sitting in the grass about a hundred meters from the house. _Of course._ Someone’s kept watch over them, making sure nothing and no one could disturb their wedding night. Billy gets a lump in his throat, growing as he swallows and he smiles through the tears at the former lover that can’t see him.  
  
A soft noise from the bed makes him lower the curtain, using it to dry the tears that have stopped just as quickly as they came. He gets back in bed, watching the sleeping man slowly waking up and peering at him.  
  
”Good morning, husband.”  
”Good morning, _legal_ husband.”  
  
He kisses the sleepy mouth, pulling away a strain of hair and Ben smiles at him.  
  
”Does my legal husband want breakfast?”  
”He does.”  
”The usual?”  
”Tea and buttered bread with honey?”  
”Uh-huh.”  
”Usual sounds… just lovely.”  
  
A loving husband making breakfast in the kitchen, as usual. So common, so precious. And just as usual, Billy’s stunned by how it’s even possible for two wretched villains to be this happy.  
  
  
**THE END**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS, my beloved, has been one hell of a ride for me. I mean, it all started because I wondered why so many of us seemed to picture Billy and Ben as a couple with less troubles and agony than, for example, Flint/Silver or Billy/Flint. This story wouldn't exist without thewalruscaptain (nightly_division) and TheMissingMask. I want to thank TheMissingMask for giving me inspiration with the amazing "In our minds, after the war" with her portrait of Billy/Ben. 
> 
> I also want to thank everyone who's commented and encouraged me in different ways and more than anyone, I want to give my deepest gratitude to my dear thewalruscaptain for all the love and care you've given my story from the very beginning.
> 
> Leaving Billy and Ben in this story now is not easy, to be honest. This story stuck with me and I've come to care a great deal for "my" characters, so I feel kind of "lost" now when it's finally finished. I hope you like the end and all my silly cat-domestic-fluffy nonsense. This story turned out to be much more sad and depressive than I'd originally inteded, so it feels great to finish it with just tons and tons of cuddles, sex, romance and cats. 
> 
> This fandom is just the best and all your sweet comments are truly making my life brighter. 
> 
> THANK YOU SO MUCH AND KISSES FOR YOU ALL <3<3<3


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